Poison & Wine
by xiiluvyuhhx
Summary: I had to be in this Muggle club for a reason, and that reason was Harry Potter. It's been over a year since the War ended, and I still can't get him out of my head. Which is great, especially now that he has a new girlfriend. And she's not me. Harry/Ginny
1. Poison and Wine

**A/N: Okay, so there are a few things I'd like to start off saying about this story, before I really get started.  
1. My name is Claire. You will soon meet my Beta, Leah. She is awesome.  
2. This is a Harry/Ginny ship. It WILL get more interesting, and definitely a lot funnier.  
3. All pairings are cannon.  
4. I ADORE Ginny's personality, but it's not in the books very much. I'll try to keep it as true to the books as possible, but she may show a side of herself that the books didn't.  
5. All of the grammar should be correct (thanks to Leah), because I know how annoying it is when the grammar sucks and you can barely read the story without getting a headache.  
6. It may take me a while to get through the updates, but I will get there. I usually do, at least.  
7. My author's notes aren't usually this long or annoying, so let's get on to the story!**

**Disclaimer: everything you recognize is JKR's.  
**

* * *

_I don't have a choice, but I still choose you  
Oh, I don't love you, but I always will.  
_-Poison and Wine, the Civil Wars

* * *

There were approximately two reasons as to why I was in a Muggle club, wearing hardly any clothing and skyscraper stilettos.

Reason One: Harry Potter, my ex-boyfriend that I still can't get out of my head.

Reason Two: Summer Lewis and Amy Loins, my two idiot best friends.

Here I was, eighteen, fresh out of Hogwarts, drop-dead sexy (really, in this dress, I couldn't deny it), and ready to move on with my life. Tonight, I planned on dancing my arse off and drinking until I threw up. Oh, and I also planned on meeting dishy Muggle boys.

Yes, I _definitely _planned on meeting dishy Muggle boys.

As Summer, Amy and I made our way to the bar, I eyed my surroundings. Colored lights flashed upon a crowded dance floor, and a DJ was set up at the front of the room, thrumming hypnotic beats to the dancers. A large bar was set up against the left wall, lined by stools. Nearby, many brown couches were occupied by Muggles drinking, mingling, and sucking face.

I made a small noise of disgust, but it went unheard in the midst of all the noise. "Remind me again why I'm here?" I asked my friends.

Amy merely rolled her eyes, but Summer gave me a look that clearly told me, _Ginny, you're an idiot_.

I have great friends.

But, really, I understood why I was here. Summer and Amy were sick of me moping around all year because Harry _still_ hasn't attempted to get back together with me. It's been a year since the War ended, I THINK HARRY HAS HAD ENOUGH TIME TO HIMSELF BY NOW. HE'S JUST BEING SELFISH IF HE –

Ahem. Sorry. Harry Potter is not selfish, he saved the Wizarding World from You-Know-Who, blah blah blah. I'm sure you understand. But still. How could he just leave me hanging?

We reached the bar, and I ordered something strong. I think. I don't really remember what it was… some kind of Muggle alcohol. Either way, when the bartender set it down in front of me, I downed it in one gulp. I was ready to get the night started.

"Are you two ladies ready to party?" Amy said, shouting over the loud music.

Summer and I nodded eagerly, and I ordered another drink. Merlin, these cups were tiny!

"Let's go dance!" Amy grabbed mine and Summer's hands and attempted to drag us to the dance floor. I resisted her pull to finish my drink. After a moment of fruitless tugging, Amy gave up and she and Summer disappeared into the throng of sweaty bodies.

I scrunched up my nose. Did I even want to go into that? I tipped the cup further up to get every drop out.

"Whoa, settle down there," a voice to my left told me. I slammed my cup down on the counter and looked at the person talking to me. A man with the most shockingly blue eyes I had ever seen stood before me, holding a red plastic cup and swinging his dark hair out of his face.

I almost melted right there on the spot. He. Was. Gorgeous.

I smiled and looked up at him through mascara-laden lashes. "And who says?" I countered. By this point, I had mastered the art of "flirting" to where it wasn't even considered flirting any more. Flirting was so… Hogwarts-y. And I was _so_ over those days. Right?

The man smirked. Merlin, he was sexy. "Well, it's mainly common knowledge. Why waste the night away getting drunk in the first hour?" He laughed. "I'm Mark Hollis."

"I'm Ginny Weasley," I told him, adjusting my dress, if you could call it that. It was more like a black tube. It was strapless and hit at the top of my thigh, with a barely-visible zipper in the back. Pretty simple if you ask me, but Summer and Amy had told me not to worry about it, that I pulled it off. One look in the mirror, and I didn't disagree.

"Where are you from, Ginny?" Mark asked me.

"Devon," I replied. "And you?"

"Here, in London. I'm a reporter for the _Times._"

"Really?" I said, my interest spiked. "How long have you been a reporter?"

"Well, I'm an under-reporter, or an intern. I'm only twenty-three, and still in college, so there's only so much I can do."

College. I often sympathized for all the Muggles, who have four or more years of school after they graduate from primary. I learned all about it in Muggle Studies during my fifth year. I feigned interest for Mark's sake. "What college?"

"Hamilton." Mark rolled his eyes. "It's way overrated. Are you in college?"

"No, er, I just graduated." It was true, I did just graduate… from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "I'm eighteen."

"Really? Well then, what are you hoping to do after high school? Any college ideas?"

I was getting faintly bored with the discussion of futures and schools. I wanted to be a Healer at St. Mungo's, but what were those things called here? Purses? No, no, I learned about this in Muggle Studies… "I was hoping to be a nurse," I said.

Mark looked me up and down and laughed. "If you were _my _nurse, I'd fake sick all the time just to see you."

I smirked. "That sounded something like a pick-up line, Mr. Hollis."

"I hope you know CPR, because you just took my breath away!"

I barked out a laugh, pretending like I knew what CPR was. It amazed me how Muggles survived without magic. The line was good, nonetheless, and I replied with my own. "Were you arrested earlier, because I'm sure it's illegal to look that good."

"You are so beautiful I'd marry your brother just to get in the family."

I laughed really hard at that one.

Mark looked at me quizzically. "What?" he asked.

"I have six brothers," I explained. "And I'm sure they all would love to beat you up if you tried to marry me."

_But they never beat up Harry._

Shut up, brain.

"_Six brothers?_" Mark whistled. "Wow. How many sisters do you have, then?"

"None. I'm the only girl, besides my mum."

"That's crazy," Mark said. "I only have one sister, and she annoys the hell out of me."

"Yeah, well, growing up with six brothers makes me tough, I suppose."

Mark and I looked out to the dance floor, surrounded by a comfortable air. The music drummed all around us, and I was struck by how handsome Mark was. I mean, of course he would never compare to Harry, but –

STOP. Bad Ginny. Try to go one night without thinking about Harry.

I sighed. I needed to get over myself. It was quite obvious that Harry didn't want me anymore. Besides, now he was even more famous than he was before (if that's possible). He could have any girl he wanted, magical or otherwise. And I didn't care. I've moved on. Just because I thought about him all the time did _not _mean I wasn't over him. Because I was. And that's why I was at this club flirting with Mark.

Right?

"I like this song," Mark said suddenly. "Want to dance?"

His eyes seemed to sparkle. I nearly swooned.

He led me to the center of the dance floor. I thought I spotted Summer's blonde hair a little bit to my left, but I wasn't quite sure. I would find the girls later.

Mark and I were naturals on the dance floor. I had all the right moves (thanks to years of parties at Hogwarts), and Mark seemed to know exactly how to match his body with mine. Every time I looked at him I would find myself melting under his intense blue gaze. Though it was quite hot in the midst of all the dancers, I felt cool under his icy stare.

Before I knew it, the song was over. We kept dancing anyway. We didn't talk much, just a lot of laughing and dancing. The music kept rolling on and on, and the tempo never seemed to slow. Abruptly, I felt overwhelmed by the people, the heat, and the noise, and I felt my body give out. The only thing supporting me was Mark, his stomach against my back.

"Ginny?" I heard him say. "Oh, God, let's get you some water." I felt him wrap his arm around my waist. Under any other circumstances, I would have slapped his arm away, but I knew that right now he was just trying to help.

We wormed out way off the dance floor and he sat me down on one of the brown couches near the bar. He told me to stay (as if I had enough energy to move after all that dancing), and he walked to the bar, returning with a cup that he handed to me.

"It's just water," Mark said, sitting down on the couch beside me.

I drank the water, feeling the ice cold liquid cooling my throat. "Sorry about that," I said apologetically, "this usually doesn't happen. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"It's cool." Mark grinned, and I took another sip of water. "I bet most of it was that Zombie you were drinking earlier."

I nearly spit my water out all over him. "That _what_?"

Mark laughed at the look on my face. "Zombie. It's made of not only dark, white, and spiced rum – which is enough in itself – but also brandy, syrup, lime juice and pineapple juice."

"When I told the barman for something strong, I didn't mean for him to give me a death sentence," I said, frowning. I couldn't believe I drank all that and didn't realize it. Surely I would've tasted the syrup – as a child, I would steal the syrup from the cupboard and pour it into my mouth, straight from the bottle.

"Well, I'm sure your body was just protesting to the lime juice. That stuff is _sick._"

I shook my head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Mark," I said again.

"Nah, it's cool. We'd been dancing for a long time anyway." Mark smiled, his blue eyes shimmering. I felt myself smile in return, and to cover my vulnerability, I drank my water.

We then sat in a comfortable silence, watching the dancers intently (ahem, NOT stalking), until Summer and Amy came rushing up.

"_There_ you are, Ginny," Summer said in a rush. "I saw you nearly pass out and I got so worried, but I couldn't escape Paul, and – oh, Merlin, are you okay?"

I felt the couch bounce as Mark shifted beside me. "Merlin?" he said quizzically, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Er – it's from a movie?" Summer lied quickly, her statement coming out like a question.

Mark bought it. "Oh, okay."

"Yes, Summer, I'm fine," I said, responding to her question. Mark sat next to me looking awkward, and Amy quietly observed the scene. "Oh! How rude of me. Mark, these are my best friends Summer Lewis and Amy Loins. Ladies, this is Mark Hollis."

Mark beamed at the girls, and I saw Summer bite her lip to keep from smiling too hard.

MINE. Mark is MINE, SUMMER, MINE!

BACK OFF.

Ahem.

Amy just stood there, looking between the three of us with an exasperated expression. "Are you quite positive you're alright, Ginny?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her. Couldn't she and Summer tell I was in the middle of something with Mark? Did they WANT me to get over Harry, or not? Sighing, I said, "I just got a little overheated is all."

Amy shrugged. "Okay, well we'll be in the bathroom." She looked pointedly at me before she grabbed Summer's hand and started to pull her away.

"Amy, what are you doing?" Summer protested. "I wasn't done talking to Ginny!"

"Yes, you were." Amy had to tug Summer's arm when she planted her feet to the ground, shouting something about some bloke named Paul.

Amy. Bless her.

Mark chuckled beside me. "Your friends are funny," he said.

I took a sip of my water to hide my smirk. "Well, would you like to see more of them?" I asked.

"Them?" He grinned. "I dunno… they seem like a bit of a handful. How about we get together sometime and you can tell me how you handle them?"

I tried to refrain myself from squealing. I had a reputation to uphold, people! "We'll see." I set my drink down on the end table beside the couch and made to stand up. Summer and Amy were waiting in the bathroom to Apparate back to Summer's place, and I didn't feel like staying in this club much longer.

Mark grabbed onto my hand. I had expected to feel a jolt of electricity, as that was what I had felt when Harry touched me and therefore what I was accustomed to, but I felt nothing. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," I said. "I don't feel well enough to stay any longer."

"Oh." Was it just me, or did Mark look incredibly adorable when he was disappointed? "Well, then, can I have your number?"

I felt my forehead crease. "Number to what?"

"Your phone…" Mark said slowly.

Phones! Those little plastic things Muggle spit into to communicate! I mentally congratulated myself for remembering this piece of information from Muggle Studies. "Oh, right. I – well, I – I dropped it in a lake," I invented wildly, "and I haven't gotten a new one yet."

"Well, when will I see you again?"

I pretended to think for a moment while the rush of the club surrounded us. "How about tomorrow night at seven? Meet me at that Italian place down the street from here."

Mark grinned, and said, "See you there."

"See you," I replied, and hurried to the bathroom.

"Amy? Summer?" I called for my best friends when I couldn't see their feet under the stall doors. Suddenly a hand shot out from an alcove to the left of the door, and I was jerked back. I found myself in a space for changing baby diapers – though why anyone would bring a baby to a club was beyond me.

"Okay, are you ready?" Amy said. She and Summer had been leaning against the wall, clearly waiting on me to arrive, and now they were standing hand-in-hand. Amy's other hand was held out for me to take.

Nodding, I placed my hand in Amy's. There was a _crack_, a familiar sensation that I was being forced down a tube, and I suddenly felt a rush of cool summer air as I opened my eyes and found myself in front of the Lewis mansion.

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: There's a twist coming up... and Harry will be there. Hopefully some Ginny/Harry action, yaya! Not everything will be happy-go-lucky oh-my-gosh-I'm-Ginny-and-I'm-so-popular-and-perfect like some stories make her out to be. Kay.**

**Songs: The Only Exception - Paramore; Cute - Stephen Jerzak (it's all pick-up lines. look it up.); Howl - Florence&the Machine; Colors - the Rocket Summer**

**B/N: I love you Claire, this was such a good first chapter and I'm going to be**** here through the entire thing to Beta it! I love this story! **

**Message to all of her readers: I'm going to be starting a new story soon,**** making a completely new start to and I'll let you guys know when it's up! :)**

**So REVIEW. Or face my Beta wrath!**

**A/N: Check out her stuff! GO!  
and you heard the woman... review!**


	2. Into Your Arms

**Did yall know Jennifer Anniston broke up with John Mayer because he was on Twitter too much? **

**Ah, John Mayer. I love you so much.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**This chapter is really long... I hope it makes sense, yall. haha.

* * *

**_I'm falling in love  
But it's falling apart  
I need to find my way back to the start.  
_-Into Your Arms - the Maine

* * *

Their house was huge. I stood in the Lewis's front yard, gazing up at their enormous mansion with the acres and acres of surrounding land.

Every summer, I would look forward to coming to Summer's house for two weeks. Usually because things got so hectic at the Burrow, and the country air here always helped me clear my head. Besides, every summer Harry usually stayed with Ron at some point. Just being in the same vicinity as Harry for a few minutes nearly throws me over the edge – I normally kept to myself when Harry was there, at least up until my fourth year.

Fourth year was a good year. Ah, memories.

Anyway, back to the house. It was the kind of residence one would see in old country movies, like a plantation home of some kind. It was a white three-story building (but there was a fourth floor underground, specifically for parties) with green ivy winding its way up the walls. The windows were all surrounded by navy shutters, and there were many brightly colored flowers surrounding the house. I knew there was a large pond in the backyard that I skated on once over Christmas holidays, as well as breech trees and willows we would sit under in the summer to get some shade.

"Your suitcases are already up in your rooms," Summer said. "Splinty should have everything prepared, as usual."

I nodded in acknowledgement and the three of us walked up the stairs and into the house. The foyer was a light yellow and very spacious and welcoming, the windows seeping in the moonlight from outside.

Beside me, Amy stifled a yawn. "What time is it?" she mumbled.

Summer glanced at the large grandfather clock that rested against the wall. "A little after three," she said.

"_Three_?" Amy exclaimed in a tired voice. "Merlin, I wasn't tired five minutes ago, but now that we're out of that blasted club, I'm beat!" She raised a hand over her mouth to cover another yawn.

"The club was fun!" Summer said excitedly. She clearly was not tired. Then again, in the seven years I'd known her, Summer had hardly ever been tired. "Don't get sleepy now, Ames, Ginny still has to tell-all about dishy Mark." She raised her eyebrows suggestively at me.

I groaned. "Not tonight-slash-today, Summy. In case you didn't notice, I nearly fainted ten minutes ago. You're lucky I had enough energy to Apparate myself here without getting Splinched."

"_You_ didn't Apparate yourself here, you boob," Amy said tiredly. She swayed slightly on the spot. "I side-alonged you."

"Exactly," I said stupidly, as though what Amy had just said would emphasize my point.

Summer's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," she grumbled. "But you're spilling everything tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow."

"Ginny, shut up."

I mimicked Summer's voice as I repeated, "_Ginny, shut up, mah mah mah!"_

"LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SASSHOLE –"

"BOTH OF YOU," Amy said loudly over our screaming, "shut up or else you're going to wake up Summer's family."

"Mum and Dad aren't home," Summer said, leading the way as the three of us traipsed up the stairs to our respective bedrooms. "They went to Ireland for a dinner meeting with sponsors of the Kenmare Kestrels. So no need to worry."

Mister Jerry Lewis, Summer's father, was a representative for the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry.

"What about Ben?"

Ben was Summer's twenty-five year old brother… and he was married.

Summer snorted. "Merlin, you really are tired aren't you, Ames? Did you forget all that I told you about Katlyn? They got married two years ago… you went to their wedding… ring any bells?"

Comprehension flickered across Amy's features. "Oh, yeah! Sorry, I'm just so – " she yawned, "tired."

Summer and I laughed, and we reached the landing where our bedrooms were located. Summer's was the closest, on the left side of the hall, and then Amy's. The one I usually stayed in was on the right side, placed between the other two rooms.

I glanced inside my room, and everything was white. I mean _every single thing – _the dressers, the headboard, the walls, the lampshades… everything, except my purple suitcase that rested on the white comforter. But that's how it was supposed to be.

We parted, walking into our respective rooms, and color suddenly blinded me. The room was charmed to fit the liking of whoever was staying in it, hence all the white. Now, the walls were a vibrant emerald, the cover on the bed was a deep golden color with crimson pillows and accents. Various other things, such as the drapings, were now the gold and red colors. The dressers were wooden, and the floor was also wooden with a plush red carpet placed in the center. One would assume these colors would clash and be distinctly Christmas-y, but it wasn't. To me, it was welcoming, like the dream bedroom.

The first year I came to Summer's house, the summer leading into second year, I did not fail to notice that the green was exactly the shade of Harry Potter's eyes. The red and gold, of course, represented Gryffindor House. The girls, hearing enough already about my slightly-obsessive crush on Harry, just grinned at me with knowing expressions when the walls turned green for the first time. How it looks now, at eighteen, is precisely how it looked when I was twelve, and I still loved it.

After unpacking my suitcase and placing my clothes in the various drawers, I was satisfied. After changing out of my dress/tube/whore-clothing-thing and into pajamas, I walked into Summer's light purple room and threw myself onto an orange couch that was pushed against the wall. Summer's room never went white, because she was always there. I don't really know how the magic works, but I never said I was a genius, okay?

…

Okay, well, I _am_ a genius, but I just didn't bother wasting my knowledge on learning the facts of wall-décor.

Yup.

"Well, I guess we should turn in," Summer said. I looked around and saw Amy lying face down on Summer's bed, with the owner of said bed (hey that rhymes! Said bed said bed said bed… ahem.) looking down at her with a half-cross, half-amused expression.

"Mmphf," Amy responded sleepily.

Summer swatted Amy's bottom playfully, laughing as she did so. Amy twitched a little, but otherwise did not move. Trying a new tactic, Summer tried to worm her hands under Amy's body and scoop her up.

Fail.

"Get _up_, you fatty!" she laughed.

I smiled. Amy most certainly was _not_ a fatty. She had a very slender frame, skin that hardly ever tanned no matter how hard she tried, and had the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. Her curtain of dark hair swung just above her shoulders, and her long bangs hid the prettiest sea-foam colored eyes you could ever imagine.

Amy was the quietest, and most rational, of our little trio. She was the kind of person who would rather sit back and watch the action than actually be part of it, unlike Summer and I. Amy thought through her actions before she made them, which was a trait she attempted to pass on to me and Summy… and _that_ obviously didn't happen. Her parents were Muggles, and she was an only child. Oh yeah, and she's obsessed with rum. It's a bad habit, I know, but maybe that's what led her to date Seamus Finnegan during our sixth year (before the Death Eaters took over the school, that is).

Summer, on the other hand…

Well, I guess you could say Amy and Summer were like night and day. That would pretty much sum it up.

Summer was tall and leggy, and sported blonde hair that would always curl unless she magically kept it straight. Summer would stay brown no matter what the season (and yes, I would be the first to admit I was extremely jealous of that trait), and she had vibrant blue eyes that always sparkled with laughter. Summer never stopped laughing. It got annoying every now and again, but overall, it kept Amy and I in a good mood.

Summer loved bright colors. And flowers. Outside of school robes, one would usually see Summer wearing a brightly colored floral skirt. Yeah, Summer knew she had good legs, and she used that to her advantage. She had dated and dumped her fair share of guys ("_I _dump _them_, not the other way around!"), but she had this completely fairytale-esque idea that her prince would come up riding on a white broomstick and sweep her off her feet. Summer was the one Amy and I had to keep out of trouble the most. In short, I guess Summer reminded me of a female version of Sirius Black.

Circe, I miss that man.

Sigh.

As for me, well, I didn't like to think about myself much. I guess I was in the middle. If Amy and Summer were night and day, I was afternoon. The comic relief. Living for the moment. Whatever. Just _don't_ call me a slag (because it has happened before… let's just say that person winded up with giant bats attacking their face while I laughed heartily), and _don't_ get on my bad side. And I guess I was the friendliest of my friends: Amy was too shy and Summer was too distracted to go be kind to someone else.

Like one time, in fifth year, there was a little first year sitting by himself during lunch. I had gotten up from the middle of Ron's speech (he had gaped at me incredulously, as if _I_ dared to leave his ramblings) and walked over to sit next to the boy. He had stared at me like I was a nutter, which I probably was/am (in a genius sort of way), but as soon as I said "Hey" I was glad I had come over, just to see his face brighten up. We got to talking, and he told me his name was Tyler and that he didn't really have many friends.

"Well, you're lucky I have great friends," I had said to him, standing up. "And you're going to sit with us from now on."

Tyler's eyes widened, but he followed me to my friends. His eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when I introduced Harry. However, we got him laughing so hard that I saw other groups of people around us shooting him jealous glares.

Muhahahaha. Jealous first years. What great satisfaction Tyler must have felt. Needless to say, but when we returned to Hogwarts the next year, Tyler had skyrocketed up, making him quite the handsome little twelve-year-old. He didn't need to sit with me anymore after that.

I sighed inwardly to myself. Kids these days.

"I am _not_ a fatty!" Amy retaliated suddenly, shooting up from her face plant on Summer's pillows. "You _know_ how I feel about that!"

Summy laughed. "Yeah, because before you came to Hogwarts you were a bit chubby?" Still laughing, Summer leaned in to pinch Amy's cheeks and make fishy faces. Amy batted her away grumpily, swinging her legs over the bed to stand up and go back to her own Quaffle-colored room (why it was Quaffle colored, I'll never know… Amy refuses to tell).

"Goodnight, ladies," Summer said cheerily, flouncing into her bed. "We'll need to wake up bright and early for Ginny to tell us her story!"

Amy and I grunted our goodnights, and marched into our respective bedrooms. I turned the lights off, climbed under the covers, and I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

* * *

Summer's plan to wake up "bright and early" was an absolute fail. Like, seriously. We woke up somewhere around twelve-forty-five, and trooped into the kitchen for brunch around one. Splinty the House Elf had prepared us waffles, and I shoved them into my mouth immediately after the plate was set in front of me.

My head was pounding, and I'm sure it was from both lack of sleep and that ridiculous Zombie crap I drank last night. I knew it tasted funny.

…Okay, maybe not. But you get my point. My head hurt like piss. And yes, I _do_ know how much piss hurts, because I'm a genius. Obviously.

I groaned. My head hurt really bad, and I was convincing myself in my head that I was a genius. What a great start to the morning/afternoon.

"Headache?" Summer asked me. When I nodded, she said, "Me, too. I'll ask Splinty to make us a potion."

Amy looked smug.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, popping a piece of waffle into my mouth. "What?" I mumbled through the waffle.

"I feel fine," she said, cutting into her waffles delicately. I scowled as I took a big swig of pumpkin juice and Amy continued, "I hardly drank anything at all."

"Yeah but I saw you getting all over that blonde bloke, so don't give me that shit," Summer said roughly. She may be happy ninety-nine percent of the time, but when she was hung-over, I can't say she was the most pleasant person in the universe.

"Summer, watch your language!" Amy scolded.

The blonde girl stabbed a chunk of waffle moodily. "Sorry, Mum."

"I have a date with Mark tonight," I blurted before Amy could retaliate.

Summer's fork clattered from her hand as it hit the plate. "Why didn't you tell us this immediately?" she shrieked. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention Summer's crazy mood swings. She had them from time to time, and they usually made me want to throw her off something tall.

Like Big Ben. Or the Empire State Building (which is in New York, America, for those dolts who didn't know).

But I knew how my tempers could be, so I let Summer's mood swings slide, just as she allowed my bouts of anger to slide. It was usually PMS for her anyway.

"Yeah, we're meeting at seven at that Italian place, Donnagini's. You know, the one we passed on the way to the club last night."

"Oh my Merlin, what are we sitting around here moping for? We need to get you dressed!" Summer stood up quickly and then stopped, grabbing her head. "Ugh, vertigo."

Amy snickered.

"Sum, we have four hours. Calm down." I pushed my now-empty plate away from me and rose slowly from my chair. Suddenly Splinty was there, and he handed me a small cup full of potion with a "Here you go, miss!"

I drank it quickly, immediately feeling the effects, then said, "I'm going to go shower; I feel like a mess."

"Aaaaaaand you smell like one too!" Amy said in a sing-song voice. I blinked at her, subtly trying to sniff my armpit. Unsuccessful.

"…It's a Muggle saying, you say it after you sing the happy birthday song to someone…"

"There's a song for birthdays?"

The raven-haired witch rolled her eyes, and I bounded up the stairs and into the shower.

Peeling off my clothes, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror. Circe, I looked like the living dead! The make-up I forgot to wash off last night was smeared all around my eyes, and my cheeks felt sticky. This shower would do me good.

Stepping under the warm water, I immediately felt better. I let the liquid beating on my back loosen me up a bit, all the while running shampoo through my hair.

I wondered what Harry would think if he knew I was dating again. Ha! It was good feeling, moving on. My world did not have to revolve around the Boy-Who-Conquered. No, sir, it did not! It could revolve around Pretty-Eyed-Mark. That was fine with me.

But still, it was a comforting thought to think that even after my brother died, I was still living my life and not sitting on my arse moping. Which is what I'm sure Harry has been doing for two years.

Harry was probably blaming himself for all the people who died in the war, taking the responsibility on himself. I suddenly felt a rush of sympathy. I wished I could go and comfort him, wrap my arms around him and tell him there was nothing he could do.

I frowned. What was I _thinking_? I WAS OVER HARRY JAMES POTTER.

Then why did my stomach just flip when I thought his name?

I sighed. Stupid stomach.

I thought about other random things as I washed my face under the water from the shower. I thought about Mark, and what I was going to wear on the date. Should I keep my hair curly, like usual, or should I straighten it? It looked good both ways. My hair usually fell in soft waves down my back, so while I was at Hogwarts my hair never took up much time in the mornings. It's the part of me that I liked the best.

I remember Harry used to like to finger my curls while we were curled up on the couch in the common room. I'd look up at his face and smile, losing myself in the emerald of his eyes.

Ah, memories.

Memories I _shouldn't_ be thinking about.

But seriously, Harry was the only one who could make glasses look that sexy. And the rest of the female population at Hogwarts agreed. It really was quite a shame that he denied that Auror job he was offered right after the War. It seemed to me that he was just going to sit around at the Burrow and eat my mum's food for the rest of his life, still moping…

And then I realized I had been standing idly in the shower for quite some time, as my hands were really pruned. I clambered out of the shower and charmed my hair dry, deciding to keep it curly. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Summer was waiting in my room to ambush me with a navy blue dress.

"Whoa, settle down!" I told her as she came running towards me as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom. "I'll put it on, I'll put it on!"

Summer looked pleased that, for once, she didn't have to argue with me: I was still caught up in my ponderings about Harry.

I slipped the dress on and grimaced. "Summer, this gives me no shape at all." It had a deep boat neck, which flattered my collarbone, and it came to a stop just above my knee, but it just hung limply at my sides. There were intricate little white flowers lining the bottom of the dress, but other than that – "I look like rectangle."

Summy rolled her eyes and thrust a white belt into my hands. I wrapped it around my middle, and suddenly I looked incredibly curvy. More so than usual.

Amy, who was lounging on my golden bed, offered her input. "I like it. It's something completely different than what you wore at the club. That black dress screamed 'I'm-in-love-with-Harry-Potter-but-I'm-here-to-show-off-my-bod-anyway-because-I-know-I'm-sexy', but this dress just shows your innocent side." She raised her eyebrows and added, "If you have one, that is."

I resisted the urge to sock her in the stomach. Instead, I settled on flicking her ear, ignoring her protests and focusing on the somersault my stomach performed when she said Harry's name.

"Now that you've flicked my ear, I refuse to do your make-up."

I felt my eyes widen. Amy was renowned for her make-up skills. "All right," I relented. "I'll stop with the ear-flicking."

Amy's nose scrunched up momentarily before she said, "That's what you said last time, too. But I'll do your make-up anyway."

"Thanks, Ames!" I said as I bounded over to the desk in the corner, covered with make-up products.

I saw her roll her eyes in the mirror. "I'm not doing it for _you,_ it's for Mark. There's only so much you can do when a Sex God goes on a date with your best friend."

I snorted, but otherwise allowed her to apply the products on my face.

"Oh, so Mark's a Sex God but Harry's not?" Summer commented after a pause.

I threw my hand over my stomach, trying to stop the gymnastics it was doing at the mention of Harry. The feeling wasn't exactly new – actually, it had been happening since I was ten – but I thought I had overcome it. Conqueror of the Butterflies.

I guessed not.

"I'm not saying he isn't," Amy said. "But since he's recently gotten so much more famous than he was before, I think it's all going to his head."

I opened my eyes fastly (yes, that IS a word. I made it up, and I'm a genius, so therefore it's a word.) and Amy nearly poked my eye out with the eyeliner pencil. "What are you on about?"

"Did you not see yesterday's copy of _Quidditch Weekly_?" Summer asked me skeptically.

I shook my head. "Ron took it before the delivery owl had even landed." Which was, now that I thought about it, unusual behavior for my brother. If it didn't involve the Cannons, he didn't care.

"Well, maybe that's because Harry was on the cover."

"Harry was WHAT?"

"He's the new Seeker for Puddlemere United, and he wasn't even on the reserve team or anything." Summer flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder idly, not noticing the expression on my face from this news. Amy, however, noticed this.

"Settle down, Ginny, what's gotten you so worked up?" she said. I began to rise from my chair, but she pushed me back down again, my bum hitting the wood with a _plunk!_ "I'm not done with you yet, Weasley!"

"I – but, I thought – he was supposed to – UGH!" I was so upset I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. So Harry wasn't sitting around moping. Nope, he was going around trying out for PUDDLEMERE BLOODY UNITED!

My self-confidence was shattered. I didn't want to go comfort Harry any more, like I had wanted to in the shower. No, I wanted to push him off a cliff – and a bloody tall one, at that. MY BROTHER DIED BECAUSE OF HIM.

I let out an irritated noise, something of a cross between a war cry and a burst of outrage, angry at myself for blaming Harry for Fred's death.

I saw Summer and Amy exchange glances, but I ignored them.

All this time, I'd been thinking Harry was too upset over the War to contact me. He hadn't owled me since I went back to Hogwarts for my seventh year, much less talked to me. When I returned home a few weeks ago, he hadn't been there. Ron said something about him staying with Hermione for a few weeks, but something about my brother's expression made me doubt him. Harry was probably just avoiding me.

Merlin's Great-Grandfather he probably _was_ avoiding me! Sweet Bernie, he hated me! Harry Potter hated me! Do you know what this means? It means he's going to come after me and hunt down the pieces of my soul and kill them then come after me and meet me in a secluded forest and I'll try to kill him but he'll come back to life and kill me first!

My mind was in full Freak Out Mode, but I managed, "Summer, may I see the article?" through clenched teeth.

She walked across the hall to her room and returned moments later, thrusting the July edition of _Quidditch Weekly_ into my hands. Looking down, Amy seized the opportunity to continue working on my eyes. I allowed her to do so as I gazed at the immaculate cover. There was Harry, posing dramatically in his new navy Puddlemere robes. I almost burst into angry laughter at the cool look on his face. How could he possibly look so calm when I was sitting here about to go on a date but I was ABSOLUTELY FUMING?

_Potter for Puddlemere, pg. 56 _the subheading beside his waist read. I hastily thumbed through the magazine (but stopping on page 37 when the new model of Nimbus caught my eye) until I found page 56.

The first thing I thought after I saw the headline was: damn, this writer sure knows how to use alliteration.

_POTTER PLAYING FOR PUDDLEMERE? PREPOSTEROUS! by Samantha Bing._

Snorting to myself, I continued to read the rest of the article.

_We all know Harry Potter (nineteen) as the Boy Who Lived and Conquered, but now he has moved on to something else – Quidditch. Known in his Hogwarts days as the youngest Seeker on a House team in a century, Potter was announced captain of the 1997 Gryffindor team during his sixth year. Two years later, Potter has found himself at the top, worming his way through with his flawless talent and, dare I say it, important connections._

_But I am sure all my readers are wondering: What happened to United's original Seeker?_

_Joseph Lesley, previous Seeker of United for three years, has recently married Raleigh Greene (daughter of Quidditch legend Gregory Greene) and has decided to spend more time with his new wife. Raleigh has been suspected of pregnancy, and therefore Lesley would not want to be travelling with a child in tow._

_Though Lesley has been unavailable for questioning, sources have told _Weekly _that he and Potter have become quite good friends. Members of Puddlemere United say that Lesley has always admired Potter and knows that he will make a great addition to the team._

_Co-Captain of the Bulrushes, Louis Rousse (twenty-three, Chaser), states, "Potter's a good kid. He's already mates with the rest of the team, and his skills are astonishing. Lesley made a great choice in his successor, and I'm really looking forward to a good season."_

_Puddlemere United came in third place at the Quidditch World Cup, beaten only by the Appleby Arrows and the Wimbourne Wasps. The team appears to get along very well, so is the World Cup in the not-so-distant future for United?_

"_The team is like a second family to me," Rousse says. "And families work well together. I think we'll be doing better this year than we ever have before."_

_Upon hearing this, _Weekly_ remembers Potter's family-free past. Will he be able to handle the responsibility that comes with a professional Quidditch team? Or will the mysteries of his quest to defeat You-Know-Who distract him from his training?_

_Other Co-Captain of the Puddlemere Bulrushes, Oliver Wood (twenty-one, Keeper) captained Harry for three years at Hogwarts._

"_Potter had great potential, even at eleven years old," Wood tells _Weekly._ "He didn't even try out for the House team. Professor [Minerva] McGonagall caught him flying after a Rememberall, and instead of getting him in trouble, she pulled me out of class and introduced me to our new Seeker."_

_When asked about Potter's reaction to pressure, Wood says, "I don't think we have to worry. He works hard, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. He looks at home on the pitch and with the rest of the team, and as captains, Louis and I feel we have nothing to fear except Wasps and Tornados, our rivals."_

_Watching the first practice of the season, _Weekly_ reveals that this team really does have the potential to get the Cup this year. With much more training and conditioning, there's no telling what the Bulrushes will accomplish._

I threw the magazine down on the floor when I was done. "What a terrible article," I muttered angrily. "This Samantha Bing character should be fired immediately. She can't write worth a sh –"

"DONE!" Amy said loudly before I could finish my curse.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror. My make-up was put on flawlessly, the colors done in natural tones, but there were irritated red marks on my cheeks.

I took a deep breath to calm myself down, unsuccessfully trying to get my mind off Harry. I picked up the magazine again and re-read it, feeling a little more open-minded than before.

"' _Weekly_ remembers Potter's family-free past,'" I quoted sourly. "'Will he be able to handle the responsibility that comes with a professional Quidditch team? Or will the mysteries of his quest to defeat You-Know-Who distract him from his training?' What is this rubbish? _Of course_ he'll be able to handle it! He's HARRY POTTER." I exhaled noisily in irritation.

"Are you _sure_ you want to go on this date, Ginny?" Summer asked, her voice doubtful. "It's about six forty-five, so you'd need to get going…"

"Yes, I'm sure," I snapped at her.

"Then you may want to calm down. If I had known you were going to freak out this much, I wouldn't have said anything. I just thought you'd be interested."

"No, I'm glad you told me," I said, trying to make my voice softer. "And is it really already six forty-five?"

Summer shot me a look. "Ginny, you were in the shower for, like, eight years."

I frowned, thinking back. I did remember standing in the shower for quite a while, now that I think about it… I guess that's what thinking about Harry did to me.

I sighed, not wanting to think about Harry right before my date with Mark.

"Thanks for helping me get ready, guys," I said, smiling.

Amy grinned. "No problem. Now you go eat that Italian and knock 'em dead!"

I looked at her with a shocked expression. "You want me to kill him?"

Her grin slipped off and she grimaced. "Muggle expression." And then she muttered something along the lines of, "Why do I even bother…"

"Don't eat too much garlic!" Summer supplied. "It makes your breath smell!"

"Okay, I won't," I promised, sticking my wand down my dress so that it was lined up with my armpit, held in place by my bra strap. "See you."

Feeling a lot calmer, but my mind still whirring, I Apparated to the alcove near the restaurant. I walked in, searching for my date, all the while mentally preparing myself for my date with Mark Hollis, Sex God Number Two.

* * *

"…And so then I said, 'Do you really think I'd give fifteen-year-olds beer? That was Dr. Pepper!'"

Mark laughed at his story, and I laughed along with him, thinking it was hilarious even though I thought Pepper was a ridiculous last name for a doctor.

I had completely forgotten about Harry and Puddlemere as soon as I saw Mark sitting at a table in the back. I focused instead on his eyes and the hilarious stories he told me about these girls who stumbled around like they were drunk, even though they really weren't but didn't know it. I was a bit surprised with myself when I was almost completely unbothered by the flirty waitress, as I was completely jealous when another girl so much as looked at Harry.

That was the only time I had thought about Harry this whole time though, I swear!

"So they snogged each other for no reason?" I asked, still laughing.

Mark nodded, and the waitress came back with another basket of rolls – we had been eating them non-stop since I arrived.

Right as the waitress was leaving, there was a white-hot sensation on my skin, right where the tip of my wand resided inside my dress.

I yelped aloud in pain, but ignored it, thinking it was just a random burst of magic, which my wand had from time to time.

"Are you alright?" Mark asked, looking concerned, but there was still a small smile on his perfect face from the story.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, smiling and reaching for another roll. Just then my wand burned me once more, and I cried out.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, but my wand did it again, this time longer than the first two. I hissed, trying to cover up my pained expression. "I'm just going to go to the restroom," I said, willing the pained tears to stay in my eyes.

When I reached the loo, I went into the large handicapped bathroom, immediately pulling my wand out of my dress and swishing it angrily.

Suddenly a pearly while weasel was in front of me, and the voice of my father was filling the stall. I knew the bathroom was empty, but I cast a _Sliencio_ charm around the stall, just in case the sound of Dad's Patronus worried some of the women coming in to pee.

"Ginny, come home now," my father's Patronus said quickly, his voice sounding tired yet rushed. "Charlie's been bitten by a Catalonian Fireball, and the venom of the dragon is very harmful. We need all the help we can get."

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: This took longer than I thought... it's impossible to get alone time in my house. really. The first time I uploaded this, the little stars I use to separate things weren't there... it really messed things up. so I had to fix it. I'll be in Gatlinburg for a while. Sorry.  
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**Oh, and for those who love the Maine - I SAW THEM IN CONCERT. Yes, John was as sexy as ever. No need to worry. It was also Artist vs. Poet and Stereo Skyline... and I'm seeing Forever The Sickest Kids in a few days! Get excited.  
**

**Songs: I'm Gonna Find Another You - John Mayer; The Remedy (I Won't Worry) - Jason Mraz; You & Me (live) - Dave Matthews Band; Nothing Lasts Forever - Maroon 5**

**B/N: Really amazing chapter! My new story will be up soonish... when I can**** think of a title, haha. **

**So review! Or else!**

**A/N: She's so awesome. And so are you, if you review. Yeeeeee for chapter 3 awkwardness!**

**REVIEW. please and thank you. :)**


	3. Stuck On You

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...**

**Hey folks, I got a banner for this story!  
go to photobucket(dot)com and type Gryffindordoll91 in the search box, then click people on the down arrow. then search. You'll see all the chapter images I've made so far, plus the banner made by Enough4 at TDA!  
**

**Oh, and WARNING. I'm pretty positive there's some OOC in this chapter. But it's essential to the story, so I'm sure yall will get over it.  
**

_

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Stuck on you 'till the end of time_  
_I'm too tired to fight your rhyme_  
_Stuck on you 'till the end of time_  
_You've got me paralyzed  
_-Stuck On You - Paramore

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I stood there in shock as the Patronus evaporated away. Charlie, bitten? My brother, Dragon Hunter Extraordinaire? It seemed impossible. He's been training dragons for _years_ now, and has never once gotten terribly hurt.

And what the _hell_ was a Catalonian Fireball? I'd never even heard of that breed of dragon before!

Either way, I couldn't stay in the loo staring at the walls. I stuck my wand back down my dress, unlocked the door, washed my hands for theatrical purposes, and hurried out to Mark.

He was munching on a roll when I walked up and looked confused by my expression.

"I'm really sorry," I said quickly, "but I have to go. It's a family emergency."

He blinked slowly. Honestly, I didn't have time for this. "What? I thought you didn't have a phone?"

Damn him and his logic!

"I, er, borrowed my friend's for today," I lied. "She'll need it back tomorrow."

"Oh, alright, well I hope everything's okay," Mark said.

I grinned and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "This was great Mark. We haven't gotten our courses yet and I was already having a blast."

"We'll have to do it again sometime," he said, blushing slightly. Aw, he's adorable.

"Definitely," I answered. "But now I really must go. See you!"

"See you." I could feel Mark watching me as I walked to the front of the restaurant, so I made sure to put a little extra swing in my hips to drive him crazy. When I stepped out of the building I immediately took off running, not stopping until I reached my Apparation spot. I quickly Disapparated, and the scent of the city was replaced by the familiar scent of the Burrow. I hurried to the back door near the kitchen and let myself inside.

"Hello?" I called, eyeing the empty room.

"In here, dear," my mother called from the den.

I hurried in and was tempted to walk back out. Charlie was sprawled upon the couch, a sickly purple color, wearing a torn purple shirt that clashed horribly with his skin and khaki shorts. Mum and Dad were beside him, on the floor. I couldn't help but notice the various shades of colored vomit all over his shirt.

"Oh my Merlin," I gasped. "Charlie, you're purple!"

"Mmmphphlooo," Charlie mumbled. Or something.

"Ginny dear!" Mum stood up from the ground and rushed to embrace me. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Mum, I was here two days ago."

"Yes, but you know how tiresome things get with just boys here." She let me go (I gasped for air) and added, "Well, and Hermione."

"Hermione's here?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, and so is Harry. They're out getting ice; Charlie's fever never seems to cool!" Mum rushed back to my brother's side.

"All three of them needed to go get ice?" I said slowly, dubious. "Was that really necessary?"

She frowned. "Well, right after your father sent you that Patronus, they all bolted. I guess they'll turn up sometime."  
Ah-ha! Another piece of information that proved that Harry was avoiding me. But what had I done? Hmmm.

I was distracted when Charlie leaned over the couch and threw up into the adjacent trash can. I grimaced when I realized it wasn't your average vomit – nope, it was a vibrant blue. All of it, the same color blue. I'm sure it wasn't something he ate, just the poison from the dragon, but either way it was disgusting.

"Have you had a Healer come?" I asked. "Why isn't he in St. Mungo's?"

"The Healer came, but the venom hadn't spread this much by that point," Dad answered as Mum vanished the vomit. "She said the best thing for him was to stay home, that part of the healing process involved being around familiar things."

"Does George know?"

"I sent him a Patronus as well, so he should be here any moment."

I stared at my parents for a moment.

"Ginny," Mum said, "be a dear and get me one of the washcloths in the bucket? They're in the kitchen, on the table."

I walked wordlessly into the kitchen and immediately saw the large metal bucket she was referring to. It was about three feet tall, and was clearly filled to the brim at one point with ice. Now, the ice was very near to the bottom – maybe Ron, Harry, and Hermione really had all needed to get more.

…Nah, they were avoiding me.

I could barely see the washcloths that were buried under all the ice, but I bravely plunged my hand into the bucket and pulled out a red one. I quietly brought it back to Mum, frowning as she rubbed across his forehead, collarbone, legs… I had to look away. I had a strong stomach, but seeing my most active brother incapacitated like this was hard to watch.

I cleared my throat. "So, er, why don't you just charm the cloth to stay cool?" I said. "Aren't you magical?"

"We tried that," Dad said warily. "But the illness is magical as well."

Charlie threw up again, this time his barf was a deep indigo color. I cringed when I heard it hit the base of the trash can.

I gave my father a skeptical look, as though Charlie's actions proved my point. "So there's nothing we can do except wait it out? Twiddle our thumbs and ponder the beginnings of the universe?"

He returned my expression with one that clearly told me I was bordering the Ginny-you're-being-disrespectful-go-to-your-room-now speech. "Ginny, dear, the Healer's coming back tomorrow –"

"Tomorrow?" I said, ignoring my father's look. My voice was irritatingly high-pitched, and I cleared my throat again. "What if the venom has spread to his kidneys by then? Or his liver? Then he's screwed!"

"Ginny, the Healer said the venom is moving very sl –"

"Moving slowly? That explains why he wasn't sick enough to be diagnosed then, but is vomiting blue and purple shit now?"

"Ginny," Mum began warningly, but I cut her off.

"That Healer was daft!" I said loudly, on the verge of yelling. "What if he dies by then?"

"Ginny, you're being dramatic," Dad said sternly.

I huffed angrily, about to retaliate to what I knew was true, when a clang in the kitchen distracted me.

"Merlin, Ron, you missed the bucket! Way to go!" The familiar voice of Hermione chastised.

"I did not! It's halfway full now, see?"

"Mate, that was supposed to fill the bucket up _all the way_," said the voice that made my stomach flip, "_not_ get all over the floor."

My brother let out a noise of irritation that sounded somewhat girlish. "Fine, Harry, if you're so clever, you try it."

There was a shuffling, a ripping sound, and another loud clang.

"Dead on," Harry's voice said smugly.

Ron grumbled unintelligibly and meandered into the den. There was more shuffling around in the kitchen before my brother's face popped in through the doorway.

"Ginny!" he said, surprised.

The shuffling stopped.

Awkward.

"Hey, Ron," I said.

"Er, why are you here? I thought you were at Summer's?"

Ha. The only reason my brother knows my best friend's name is because he harbored a secret crush on her when he was fourteen. But he still doesn't think I knew, so I always have to keep it on the Down Low. You know how these things go. But, have no fear, I _will_ use it as blackmail someday.

"Yes, but I got Dad's Patronus and I came as soon as I could," I replied. "Even if that meant leaving my date."

"_Date_?" Ron howled, his ears turning red. "With who?"

I rolled my eyes. "Now is not the time, Ron. Our brother is vomiting The Rainbow and you're going all Big Brother on me. In more than one sense."

Ron scratched his hair, his face still flushed. Meanwhile, on the couch, Charlie threw up again. It was black, and this time he just kept retching and retching. It was like there was an endless vat of vomit inside of him, one that hadn't been there five minutes ago.

"Oh my Merlin!" I yelped, forgetting about Ron and the others and rushing over to Charlie. All the books I had already read on Healing all told me black vomit was a very bad sign. I thought I knew what I could do to help though, and they were simple things that should have been thought of earlier.

Stupid Healer. She was probably staring at Harry the whole time she was over anyway. Young or old, they all seemed to be charmed by him…

Mum and Dad were in my way of Charlie, huddling around the couch and generally taking up space.

"Mum, go sit on the loveseat," I ordered, pointing in the general direction of said chair, "and Dad, you take the recliner. The venom has reached his gallbladder; he needs air."

My parents wordlessly did as they were told, and Ron was immediately joined by Harry and Hermione, who had emerged from the kitchen. I didn't have time for formalities.

"Hermione, get me all of those washcloths."

"All of them?" she clarified.

"Yes, all of them."

She disappeared into the kitchen, and I ripped Charlie's purple vomit-stained shirt off of him. "The excess heat is just making him hotter."

I spun around in circles, looking for my wand. "Wand, wand…" I muttered to myself. Then I barked, "Ron, get over here and take Charlie's pants off."

Ron did so, ignoring how odd that statement sounded, and I pulled my wand out of my dress. While I did so I glanced at Harry's face (never a good idea when your brother may or may not be dying) and his expression clearly told me he wasn't sure if he should laugh at where I kept my wand or keep quiet because the situation was so serious. I shot him a strained smile and he returned it, sniggering slightly.

Merlin, even his snigger was sexy.

I turned back to Charlie, who was now wearing nothing but his plaid boxer shorts. Hermione returned with the freezing cold washcloths and I smacked one down on Charlie's chest. I placed the others on his forehead, neck, stomach, arms, and legs.

He moaned slightly, and I muttered a Cooling charm. Maybe the spell would work better now that he's not quite as hot as he was before.

"Now, all of us need to space out around the room. Our body heat is egging on the fever." I thought for a moment before I asked Dad, "The Healer said he needed familiarity, didn't she?"

He nodded.

That's weird. I've only heard of one case of dragon venom that was like that, and I couldn't remember which kind of dragon it was – it certainly wasn't a Catalonian Fireball, though. After all, I wasn't a professional Healer yet; I hadn't even started training.

Either way, the one way to create familiarity was to act naturally, which meant talking pleasantly, eating dinner, and issuing the light banter that was ever-present in the house. The venom seemed to be feeding off the oh-my-gosh-I'm-so-worried vibe somehow, and the more anxiety in the room, the faster the venom would spread.

That's why the vomit skipped purple and went straight to black when Ron was talking about my date. I was sure the strain between Harry and I, though in different rooms, had an effect also. Actually, it probably was a large factor that we were in separate rooms – the greater the distance, the faster the venom spread. It made sense.

"Just act natural," I said to the room at large.

Five pairs of eyes looked at me with similar Ginny-you're-loony expressions.

I sighed. "The venom is feeding off the tension. The vomit started off red, did it not?"

"Yes," Mum said, "then orange, and yellow, and so on."

"Well then it should have gone blue, indigo, deep purple, brown, then black. It skipped the purple and the brown because of the added stress that came with the arrival of three newcomers."

"So, what should we do?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Act natural," I repeated, shrugging.

There was a pause, and then Mum said in a small voice, "I'll go make some tea."

"I'll go, er, to my shed," Dad said, standing and heading outside with one last glance at Charlie.

Now it was just Ron, Hermione, Harry and I. And Charlie, but he didn't count. However, this did add tension, and Charlie moaned again.

"You look lovely, Ginny," Harry blurted suddenly. Then he turned pink.

I felt my cheeks immediately tinge bright red. What. The. Crap.

I looked down at myself: the blue dress, white belt, white gladiator sandals. My strawberry hair hung in slight curls around my shoulders, though I'm sure it didn't look as good now as it did before my date.

"Thank you, Harry," I said awkwardly as my blush disappeared. I thought about saying something along the lines of _Congratulations on Puddlemere, Harry, _but I decided it would come out more snappily than I would have liked, so I stayed quiet.

After a silent moment, I moved to sit down on the loveseat, and Hermione came to sit next to me. She gave me a hug.

"I feel like it's been so long since I've seen you," she said with a smile.

I laughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry and Ron bickering on the sofa. "Because it _has_ been so long," I told the older witch. "Last I saw you were Easter holidays."

"Exactly!" Hermione chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear. Hermione looked a lot better than I had seen her last time. Her hair was now a _controlled_ bush, with small curly strands framing her face. The dark circles under her eyes that had been present every time I had seen her since the War were no longer there, and she just looked overall healthier and happier.

"You look good, Hermione," I told her.

Hermione grinned. "Thanks," she said. "I realized that the concept of sleep really _does_ help. But what about you? Why are you so dressed up?"

My face colored again. I usually didn't blush, under any circumstances. It was practically part of my genetic makeup. SO WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

"I was on a date," I answered.

Hermione pursed her lips, her brown eyes darting over to the boys – Ron was clearly demonstrating a Quidditch move to Harry (I felt anger rise up in my chest, but I swallowed it down) – and back to me. "Oh?" she said. "With whom, may I ask?"

"A Muggle. His name is Mark, and, oh, Hermione, he's gorgeous!"

I coughed to cover the fact that I had just gushed. I don't gush either. Gushing and Blushing = no no.

Hermione looked at me with her eyebrows raised, clearly noticing my gushing-ness as well. "Will I ever get to meet him?" she asked.

I pretended to think for a moment. "No, you're too weird."

Hermione frowned playfully and shoved my shoulder lightly. Right as I laughed, there was a piercing screech, and all eyes in the room snapped over to Charlie.

He was on the couch, his eyes wide open and a deep red color, with his back arched up, thrashing about and yelling like a banshee.

"Oh, my God, what's happening?" Hermione shouted over Charlie's screams.

I rushed over to Charlie's side and looked at his position. He'd been quiet while the tension had died down, and conversation flowed easily. Hermione and I were fine by means of conversation, but what were Harry and Ron talking about?

"Ron, Harry, what were you talking about?"

"When?" Ron asked stupidly.

"Just a second ago!" I said impatiently. Couldn't he see his second-oldest brother was in pain?

He mumbled something unintelligible, his ears turning red. Charlie cried out again, the arch of his back escalating with each scream.

"Ron, I don't have time for mumblings!" I attempted to push Charlie's stomach back down to the couch, but he wouldn't move. I stopped when I realized that the pressure I was adding might be egging on the venom to his spine, and I removed my hands.

"We were talking about you!" he yelled.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Mum shouted as she burst into the room. Upon seeing Charlie, she attempted to rush to him, but I stopped her.

"Mum, give him space; I think his spine is rupturing!"

"WHAT?"

"I don't know what's happening, but I know that –"

I stopped talking at the earsplitting _crack! _It seemed to echo in the silence of the room, all of us looking on in horror.

"That was his spine," I whispered. What the hell was I whispering for? "THAT WAS HIS SPINE, SOMEONE GET HIM TO ST. MUNGO'S!"

Mum ran out of the room to get the amulet we used for emergencies that called upon the magical hospital, while Hermione, Harry, Ron, and I had a Freak-Out Fest in the den, where Charlie's anguished screams filled my head and nearly broke my heart.

"I don't know what to do," I told myself in a panicked mantra. "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't – RON WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

My brother had his wand out and was pointing it at Charlie. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted, and a bust of red light erupted from his wand, hitting Charlie straight in the chest.

The screams stopped. There was silence in the den until I screeched, "YOU IDIOT, RON!"

"What?" he asked, eyes wide. "I thought it would help!"

"_Help?_ Ron, the Stunning Spell shuts his body down!" I ran a hand through my hair, aggravated. "There will be nothing in his body to fight against the venom!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know, I'm no Healer –"

"Neither am I, but I know how to –"

"Okay, STOP!" Harry roared. Ron and I glared at each other before folding our arms across our chest. "Ginny, you said tension doesn't help the venom, but _this_," he gestured between Ron and I, "is tension. Lots of it. So let's just calm down for a moment –"

"_They're here!_" Mum shouted, bursting into the den followed by four Healers. They quickly put Charlie on a stretcher before they took some kind of yellow powder out of their coats and threw it on the ground, disappearing without a word. They were in and out within a matter of seconds.

Charlie's spine was broken. Oh my God. I repeated those words to myself while the news sunk in. I knew there was no point in rushing to the hospital. We would just have to sit in the waiting room for ages anyway, just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. That was an awkward encounter that I was quite keen upon missing.

There was an uncomfortable pause in the light of Charlie's absence, Ron and I breathing heavily.

After a moment, I huffed angrily and glowered at Ron. This whole thing had happened so fast, and I found it hard to believe that I was getting ready for a date an hour ago. I felt uncomfortable in the constricting dress, and I tugged at it just to have something to do with my hands.

Abruptly, Mum said, "I'll go get Arthur, and we'll meet you four at the hospital, alright?" We nodded in acknowledgement, and she hurried out of the room and into the backyard.

"Er," I said after another pause, "I'm going to go upstairs for a minute and change."

"I'll come," said Hermione, following me to my room.

Once we reached the landing, I opened my door and found it the exact same as it was before I left for Summer's house… but that was only two days ago, so I wasn't worried that anything was missing.

I searched around in my drawers for my favorite pair of jeans while Hermione sat on my bed, looking around.

"You should try out for the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny," Hermione said suddenly, her eyes on the poster of the female Quidditch team that was hanging to the left of my bed.

I looked over at her. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. You're good at Quidditch."

Laughing, I opened my drawer and pulled out a tank top. "'Mione, you don't know anything about Quidditch."

"I do too!" she retorted indignantly. "I've read _Quidditch Through the Ages_."

"_Everyone _has read _Quidditch Through the Ages_," I said, unbuckling the belt around my middle and tossing it on the floor.

She ignored me. "And everyone on the Harpies has a name that starts with 'G'. You'll fit right in."

I stripped off my dress and threw it on the floor next to the belt, reminding myself to give it back to Summer when I returned. Then I made a mental note to message them somehow and tell them what's happened.

I slipped on the jeans. They were dark and torn, tight in all the right places and soft from wear. Mum has tried to throw them away many times, but my Blue-Jean Senses start Tingling and I always rescue them in the Nick of Time.

So, not only was I a genius, I was a superhero as well. Meheheheh.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Harry suddenly becoming part of Puddlemere, does it?" I asked nonchalantly, slipping the green, orange, and white striped tank over my head.

"How do you know about that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hermione, he was on the cover of _Quidditch Weekly_. How could I _not_ know?"

She looked down and started picking at the bedspread. She looked like she was going to say something, but she didn't utter a word.

Frowning, I went to my dresser and picked up my brush, getting rid of the knots that may have formed in the recent stress.

"I want to be a Healer," I said, attempting to unsnarl a particularly nasty curl. "You know that."

Silence from Hermione. I could practically hear the crickets chirping.

"Okay, look," she said suddenly, looking me in the eye. "You must understand that Harry is joining this Quidditch team partly because of you."

"Me?" I raised my eyebrows incredulously.

"Yes. And because he knows he needs a job, and because Quidditch will help him get his mind off things."

I put my brush down and asked dully, "So what does this have to do with me?"

"He's trying to show you up," Hermione said simply.

Snorting, I repeated, "Show me up?"

The older witch nodded.

"Why? He hasn't talked to me in ages!"

"He's afraid!" Hermione retorted loudly. "He doesn't want to talk to you because he's scared you'll be mad at him."

"Why would I be mad at him?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Why are you questioning me?"

"Because you're questioning me!"

I _harrumph_ed and stuffed my wand in my back pocket (unsafe, I know), annoyed that I couldn't find a comeback to a statement by _Hermione Granger._ THE WORLD MUST BE ENDING! TWENTY-TWELEVE! AHHHHH!

Yeah! That makes sense! Hermione somewhat unknowingly wounded my ego (which is, however, still quite large), Harry Potter is supposedly scared of me, and tried out for Puddlemere United to show me up. What is wrong with this picture? It CLEARLY equals the end of the world.

Ugh. My brain hurt. I decided to think about everything later.

"Whatever," I grumbled, trudging out the bedroom door. "Let's just go see if Charlie's okay."

We walked downstairs, grabbed the boys, and Apparated to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The fat blonde receptionist lady on the ground floor directed us to the first floor, where we were to wait for Mum and Dad to come out and tell us everything was alright.

We sat down in the uncomfortable plastic green chairs, staring at the white walls idly. The seating arrangement was Ron, Hermione, me, and Harry, all in a row. Talk about awkward.

"Why are hospitals always so… white?" Ron asked suddenly. What a dumbarse.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "To make it more _sterile_, Ron."

"Yes, but they couldn't add some colorful art somewhere?"

And the bickering begins.

Drowning out their row, I thought back to what Hermione had said. Harry didn't want to talk to me because he was afraid I would be mad? He was sitting right next to me, so I could fix that easily. Next.

Hermione wanted me to try out for the Holyhead Harpies? I knew I was good at Quidditch. My whole family was; it ran in my blood. And, I could never pass up an opportunity to show someone up. Apparently, that was what Harry was trying to do. Was he trying to get me to notice him or something? Because I'm pretty positive I noticed him enough as it was. Like right now. I was hyper-aware that he was sitting mere inches from me, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bent low.

Was he more worried about my brother's welfare than I was? I snorted. He probably was. In the Muggle world, a cracked spine pretty much screws you over. One either dies, or is incapacitated for the rest of their lives. But in the Wizarding World, mending a fractured spine was possible… if the procedure was completed by the right Healer.

I rested my hand lightly on Harry's back, feeling a shock wave run up through my arm. "Harry?" I said.

He turned his head to look at me, the emerald in his eyes startling. I had forgotten how vibrant his eyes were, but looking at him now it was astonishing how I could have.

"Charlie's going to be okay, you know," I told him gently.

Harry frowned. "But his spine…"

I laughed flippantly to ease the tension. "The Healers can fix it."

"How?"

"Magic," I answered simply. "It will be painful for Charlie, and he will have to rest for about a month, but he should be back in Romania with his dragons in no time."

"Oh," Harry said, sitting up. "Well, good."

Hmm. Awkward.

"Congratulations on making Puddlemere, Harry," I blurted before I could stop myself. Surprisingly, I didn't feel mad when I said that, like I thought I would. I supposed the anger was masked by the confusion of Hermione's words.

He looked down. "Thanks."

"Were try-outs difficult?"

He nodded. "Very. There were at least thirty people there trying out for Seeker. They asked me to do all these hard moves, and I just barely executed them without falling off my broom."

"How about the Chasers? Did they do things I could be capable of doing?"

"Definitely!" Harry said, smiling. Merlin, his smile was adorable. How could I ever think Mark was attractive when I had Harry to compare him to? "Why, are you thinking about trying out?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I've toyed with the idea of auditioning for the Harpies, though."

Lies. I've never _toyed_ with any such ludicrous idea. Toyed. Why the hell did I just say that? _No one_ says that. I'm such a loser.

Ha ha. Just kidding. I'm too awesome to be a loser.

"You should!" Harry encouraged excitedly. "You'd be excellent!"

"You think?"

"Yeah! I've had two practices with United, and it's just like the Gryffindor team – really fun. You'll love something like that."

I thought about the idea, letting Harry talk me into it. Maybe it would be fun to be on a Quidditch team again, Lord knows how much I've missed being on a team. Hogwarts hasn't had a Quidditch match in two years: Voldemort-Hogwarts certainly didn't allow it, and Post-War-Hogwarts was too preoccupied with restoring the castle to host matches. My skills were sure to be a little rusty, but I knew I could get back into the swing of it in no time.

"It's going to be a lot of work to get me good enough again," I said.

"I'll help you!"

I blinked at him. Did he really want to help me? I wanted to push him off a cliff two hours ago! I thought he hated me! And now he wants to help. Maybe it's just because I'm amazing. But either way, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to spend more time with Harry.

"Okay," I answered.

Harry looked genuinely excited, and his mood affected mine. I was excited, too. "I have a lake house, and we can practice there."

"Lake house…" I repeated, confused.

"Like a house, on a lake. It's something Muggles do. It's loads to do – go tubing, ride the jet-skis, ride the boat… hey!" Harry was obviously struck with some genius idea in the midst of all his Muggle gibberish. "Let's have a party!"

"Party?" Ron interjected, breaking off his conversation with Hermione about crabs.

Harry nodded. "At the lake house… it's huge. It will be awesome."

Okay, this was not the same Harry I knew in Hogwarts. Well, it kind of is. When Harry wasn't stressing about Voldemort or something else, he was quite hilarious. He may have saved the Wizarding World, but he was just a regular nineteen-year-old boy who liked to party.

_Everyone_ likes to party.

But in Hogwarts, there was always Voldemort. When Harry and I dated, that was the most care-free I had seen Harry since he turned thirteen. It was a great time for everyone, all of us trying to see the light in such a dark time. Of course, when Dumbledore died, that all changed. Harry and I broke up, he, Hermione, and Ron left to go on some mysterious mission I still don't know about, and the Death Eaters took over the school.

But, I couldn't complain. I liked Party Potter the best.

Ron whooped and leaned around Hermione to look at me. "Ginny, you'll invite Summer and Amy, won't you?"

I held back a laugh. Clearly, that fourteen-year-old crush my brother had still lives on at nineteen. "I will," I promised. "So, Harry, is it alright if I invite someone else as well?"

"Sure, invite whoever you want," Harry said. Then he whooped and added loudly, "The first party of the summer, who's excited!"

Ron and I laughed and cheered, and Hermione just sat there smiling like the creeper she is. We kept up quite a bit of noise until a Healer came down the hallway and sternly but politely told us to shut up.

We kept it down after that, Harry telling me in more detail things to do at such a large lake ("It's called Sunshine Lake," Harry explained, "because it's always sunny. At least, as sunny as it can be in England.") He told me tubing was when you sit on a raft attached to a rope and hang on for dear life while a boat pulls you, and a jet-ski was a machine that floats on the water, similar to a motorcycle. I already knew what a boat was due to Muggle Studies class, but Harry told me that this boat was much smaller and faster than the one we read about in class.

He was just about to tell me about water-skiing when Dad entered the waiting room.

"He's going to be fine," he announced. "The Healer said Charlie will have to stay here for about two weeks until the venom runs out of his system. They've given him a potion to make the venom avoid key organs. They said he had a chance of d –" Dad coughed to hide the crack in his voice, "a chance of dying due to the force of the break, but a Stunning spell saved him."

Ron leaned around Hermione again and sent me an I-told-you-so look.

"So, since it is now…" Dad glanced at his watch, "nearly one in the morning, you all can return home. Molly and I are going to stay here with Charlie tonight."

We all got up, hugged Dad, and went back to the ground floor to Apparate back home. Deciding to sleep in my own bed tonight instead of going back to Summer's, I changed out of my jeans and tank top and into purple pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

I bade goodnight to Ron, Hermione, and Harry, crawled under the covers, and fell into an uneasy slumber full of Harry, Quidditch, and lake parties.

* * *

**A/N: Yep. Hello Party Potter. Sorry this took so long... I randomly went to Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge/Knoxville last week. And, since I go to the lake like all the time, I decided the characters in Harry Potter should, too... though I'm not sure if Brits do that?**  
**3/25/11 edit: Hi Catherine. I know you'll probably read this sometime. You're my best friend. I hope it's not too embarrassing.**

**Songs: Jersey - Mayday Parade; Vultures - John Mayer; Bubble Toes - Jack Johnson; Young London - Angels and Airwaves**

**B/N: Great chapter, as usual! :) I am now a driving girl. Oh my god. Yeah...**** I'm excited but the rest of you should fear for your lives. XD Anyways,**** review!**

**A/N: yeah. reviews would be nice.**_  
_


	4. When It Rains

**Don't forget to go on photobucket, go to the search box, click to down arrow, choose "people", and type Gryffindordoll91**. **There you can see the banners and the chapter images!**

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**So, I hope yall like this chapter. Yall have no idea how hard it is for me to type "you guys" instead of "y'all". It's really hard. I always have to backspace and retype because I always write "yall" on accident. Oops.**

**Yall are waaaaay ahead of HPFF... they don't even have the 2nd chapter of this story yet. It takes so freaking long to validate, and then I get rejected, and have to fix it, then re-validate it... ugh. it's really annoying. And I'm just rambing on and on just so I can reach 7,000 words... it's at 6,961 right now and that's gotta change! I NEED TO REMIND YALL TO REVIEW because my HP fics never get as much feedback as my Twilight ones do...  
**

**Disclaimer: JKR's birthday is the same day as Harry's. Who knew that? I didn't! But I do now... but my birthday isn't August 31st... I'm basically saying I'm not JKR. I don't own Harry Potter. But I am boring everyone now. So, read on!**

**oh, and happy birthday to my bestest friend in the whole wide world Catherine(: even though she'll never see this because I refuse to let her read my fics. anyway...  
**

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_Oh, oh, How could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming  
Oh, oh, I need an ending  
So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?  
_-When It Rains - Paramore

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"'Lo, Ginny," mumbled Harry the next morning.

I mumbled out a response, concentrating more on not falling asleep in my corn flakes than formalities. I hadn't slept very well last night, yet I still woke up at the crack of dawn (eleven-fifteen is quite early!). My mind kept running over and over my conversation with Hermione, and then the conversation with Harry. Something was off about that, my subconscious told me. If he was scared of me, why would he invite me to his lake house for extra Quidditch practices?

"What's for breakfast?" Ron shouted, barging into the kitchen.

I glowered at him for making such a ruckus this early in the morning, while Harry answered, "Cereal."

Ron made his way over to the cereal box on the counter while Harry took a seat next to me, a bowl of corn flakes in his hand.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Africa," I grumbled, stabbing my spoon into the soggy mass of flakes.

"What? Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "What a dumbarse," I muttered to Harry. He started laughing and choking on his cereal. I thumped him on the back.

Ron sat down across from us and began shoveling cereal into his mouth, milk running down his chin.

With one last cough, Harry said, "No, I think Hermione's still asleep, Ron."

My brother looked up from his food and wiped his face with his arm. "She sleeps a lot, that Hermione."

"Well, it's certainly helping, isn't it?" I said, reaching to take a sip of pumpkin juice.

"What d'you mean?"

"She looks much better now. The bags under her eyes are gone, and her hair and face looks healthier."

"Hermione's always been healthy," Ron said, blinking stupidly. "She's always had really nice skin."

Beside me, Harry hacked out a cough. I assumed he was still choking on his cornflakes.

"Er," I said, "right. She has always had nice, um, skin."

Ron nodded at me and returned to his cereal. I did the same, and not five minutes later Hermione entered the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said.

"'Morning," Harry, Ron, and I chorused.

She made herself a bowl of cereal and sat next to Ron. Ron's ears turned slightly pink, but I think I'm the only one who noticed.

"So, what are the plans for today?" she asked.

"Well, Ron and I were going to go up to the lake house and start getting everything ready for the party," said Harry.

"You're actually having the party, then?" Hermione clarified.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you've never really been one for parties in the past…"

Harry laughed. Ahh, how I loved the musical sound of his laugh. "I know. But this is a time for us to live a little, you know?" He looked down at his corn flakes. "Merlin knows we deserve it."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Okay, fine," she consented. "But you need to plan a little bit. You'll need to provide an Apparation point around the house so no Muggles see, and tell the guests how and when to arrive."

"Erm, to Apparate, just focus on 'Harry Potter, Sunshine Lake,' and to Floo, it's 5855 Sunshine Avenue." He thought for a moment. "It'll be next Saturday night, five to whenever. We'll need daytime to do all the things on the water."

"Bathing suits?"

"Required."

"YES!" Ron exclaimed, almost knocking over his pumpkin juice in his excitement.

We all shot him a confused look. He muttered something that sounded a lot like "girls" and "bikinis" before he spooned more cereal into that gob of his.

Hermione turned to Harry again. "Are Muggles allowed to come?"

"No," Harry answered.

Well crap. I guess I couldn't invite Mark anymore. But I'll be at a party with _Harry freaking Potter_ – who could compare? Mark certainly couldn't, no matter how gorgeous he was.

"Are you going to provide alcohol?"

"Er, sure."

"Are you going to provide food?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to provide accommodations?"

"What is this, twenty questions?"

"_Answer the question!_"

Harry raised his hands in a surrendering gesture before responding, "Sure." He dropped his hands and added quickly, "_But_ I want everyone out by four in the morning. The only people allowed to stay the night will be you, Ron, and Ginny. Actually, I want you all to stay the whole weekend."

He was letting me stay? All weekend? Really? I felt elated. Clearly, my assumption from yesterday that Harry hated me/was avoiding me was incorrect. Usually, I hated being wrong. Today, I was glad I was.

I finished my cereal and stood.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"Back to Summer's, nosy," I replied.

"Okay, well be sure to tell her about the party."

I laughed. "I will."

"If I didn't know any better, Ron," said Hermione, "I'd say you fancied Summer."

"What?" Ron's ears turned a slight shade of red again. "Yes, I do like summer, it's so warm and there's no school…"

"We've been out of school for two years," Harry pointed out.

Ron shot him a death glare. I was still laughing.

"As much as I would like to stay and see Hermione embarrass my brother," I interjected, "I have to go."

The other three said goodbye to me, and I walked outside, still in my pajamas, and Apparated to Summer's. I walked in through the back door, and was greeted with two screeching voices immediately.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"OH MY GOSH!"

Amy threw her arms around me right as I stepped over the threshold. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh we've been so worried!" she said in one breath. Summer coughed from behind her and raised an eyebrow. "I mean, _I've_ been so worried," Amy amended. "Summer didn't seem to mind so much."

Amy stepped back.

Summer smirked at me. "Did you spend the night with Mark?" she laughed. "I didn't think you would do that on the first date, Ginny!"

Most people would have blushed at Summer's words, but I didn't. I was used to it. So I sent her a cool, intimidating stare and said, "No. Charlie's in the hospital."

Summer stopped smiling. Ha. I loved making people feel guilty.

"Oh no!" said Amy, ever the caring one. "Is he alright?"

"He got bitten by a Catalonian Fireball or something," I explained, "and the venom was making him sick. Mum and Dad needed me home. Charlie cracked his spine, but the Healers at St. Mungo's said he should be fine after a few weeks of hospital time."

"Well, at least he's okay."

I nodded. "On a happier note, guess who I got to see last night?"

"Mark?" Summer said.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. She grinned, and I smiled in response, knowing she couldn't be _that_ stupid. Well, sometimes she could. But OBVIOUSLY I got to see Mark last night, so I knew she was joking.

"No," I responded. "Hermione and Harry were with Ron last night. They sat at the hospital with us and we talked."

I moved to sit on one of the couches. Summer and Amy followed.

"What'd you talk about?" Summer prompted.

"Well, I think I'm going to try out for the Holyhead Harpies."

Silence. Then – "GINNY THAT'S GREAT!"

"That's awesome, Gin!" said Amy happily. "You love Quidditch so much, and you're good. You'll enjoy playing professionally."

"Yeah, Hermione and Harry talked me into it."

Summer frowned. "But I thought you were mad at Harry for making Puddlemere United?"

"I was, but then Hermione told me it was for some personal reasons of his," I edited. Then, shrugging, I added, "He's having a party, you know."

"Who?"

"Harry. He wanted me to invite you two."

"When?" asked Amy.

"Next Saturday, five till four," I replied. "At his lake house."

Summer blinked. "What's a lake house?"

I laughed at her. "I'll side-along you guys," I said.

"Oh, okay!" she bounced up and down, shaking the couch. "I like parties!"

Rolling my eyes, I jokingly said, "Trust me, we know."

Summer playfully slapped my arm.

"Okay," interjected Amy, "tell us about your date with Mark!"

I grinned and launched into my story, grateful for such awesome friends.

* * *

The rest of the week passed fairly quickly. I stayed at Summer's (after I gave back her clothes), though we dropped by the Burrow on Wednesday to say hello to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Before that, on Tuesday, Summer, Amy, and I went to visit Charlie in the hospital. He was asleep. We stayed to chat with Mum and Dad for a bit before we left to get lunch. After that, on Thursday, we went Muggle clothes shopping (the best kind of shopping, I hated robes).

I pretty much bought myself out. I found white, khaki, grey, and blue jean shorts that I liked, so I bought two of each color. Then I found a bunch of floral skirts that were fun to twirl in, not to mention how absolutely adorable they were. I then bought a load of shirts to go with said shorts and skirts.

But we didn't stop there. The girls and I then moved on to bathing suits. I bought three new ones, and let me tell you, I looked awesome in them. I hope Harry will be impressed.

Crap, no one was supposed to know I bought them especially for him! Well, no one does. I'm sure Summer and Amy guessed, but they wisely kept their mouths shut.

Next, we went dress hunting. I bought around… thirty dresses. There were more dresses that I wanted to buy, but I was out of Muggle money. Then I was quite sad. But the sadness was replaced by tiredness. I slept the rest of Thursday after we returned, spent all Friday packing, and then the day of the party hit me in the face.

"Are you guys wearing your bathing suits under your dress?" Amy called from her bedroom.

"Yes!" Summer and I responded from our own bedrooms.

My bathing suit was a bikini that wrapped around my neck to tie in the back. It was a solid dark aqua color, and that's just how I liked it. It was plain and simple, and therefore my favorite out of the three. I threw a solid yellow sundress over the top of it and slipped on my sandals. Leaving my hair curly, I put my wand in my duffel bag, zipped it up, and threw it over my shoulder.

My shoulder immediately sagged under the weight; it was heavier than I thought. I suppose I could have over packed, just a little… nah. I was only staying three nights. So, naturally, I packed nine pairs of shorts, eleven dresses, five pairs of sweatpants, eight t-shirts, thirteen nice shirts, and two pairs of jeans, plus undergarments and toiletries. I had to magically enlarge the bag twice, but everything fits snugly now.

Now, if I was staying four nights, that would be a _completely_ different story.

I unzipped the bag, pulled out my wand, and cast a spell on my luggage to make it easier for me to carry. I wouldn't want Harry to think I over packed, because I didn't. It may be a little more than most people, but still not bad. Either way, over packing was NOT attractive.

Slipping the wand back into the duffel, I yelled, "I'm ready! Are you guys ready?"

"WE'VE BEEN READY FOR FORTY-FIVE BLOODY MINUTES!" Summer yelled back angrily from downstairs.

"OOPS!"

I ran down the stairs and found them sitting on the couch. Amy was clipping her toenails (random, I know) and Summer was using her wand to change the color of her dress. As of now, it was bright red.

"You look nice, Ginny," Amy commented.

"Thank you," I said. "So do you!"

Amy sported a floral romper. I can't pull off rompers and think they're hideous with my hair. However, the one-pieced tube-top-and-shorts outfit looked perfect on Amy. The string of a green bathing suit poked out of the top of the romper and tied around her neck.

I looked at Summer. Her button-up dress was now navy blue. She looked down at herself contemplatively and changed it back to red with a shrug.

"Done!" Amy said, clipping the nail off her pinky toe with a flourish. She put the clippers down on the coffee table and walked over to me.

"Alright, well grab my hands," I said. The two girls did so, and after a count down from three, we found ourselves materializing somewhere in the British countryside.

I looked to my left and gasped at the beauty of the water. Sunshine Lake stretched on as far as I could see, and Harry was right – it was sunnier here than I had ever seen Devon, or London. I suppose it had something to do with all the trees here. There were other houses lining the lake, each with stairs or pathways that led down to a dock that floated over the water. Each dock had multiple boats inside.

Looking to my right, I found myself craning my neck to see the top of Harry's massive lake house. It was quite modern – many windows lined the contemporary angles of the house. People were already milling about all around the house, the backyard, and the dock.

"There's a lot more people here than I thought there would be," Amy muttered to me.

We had barley taken two steps from our Apparation point when I heard my name being called.

"Ginny!" Dean Thomas said.

I threw on a fake smile. "Dean!"

Summer and Amy sniggered and walked away, going off to find other people they knew. Traitors.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you in two years!"

"Well, I just got out of school," I said conversationally. I shifted the duffel bag on my shoulder, hoping Dean would notice it was there and leave me be. No such luck.

"Oh, so you went back then? How did that go?"

"Neither here nor there," I replied. "But I learned everything I needed in order to pass my N.E.W.T.s, which I did, so it was fine."

"Well good!" Dean nodded his head and looked around. I wish he would just hurry up so I could go find Harry… "You know, I've been training to work at Ministry."

"Really?" I feigned interest. "In what department?"

"Department of International Magical Cooperation." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Cool…" I said. Then I spied Harry walking with Ron over Dean's shoulder. They appeared to be looking for someone. Probably me! Oh, I was excited. Harry cared enough to look for me! "I have to go, Dean, I'm sorry. It was great to see you again, and I'm sure I'll see you around!"

"See you, Ginny!" He ambled off to go pester someone else.

"Oi! Harry!" I called. He and Ron both turned and looked around for a second until they spotted me.

"Ginny!" Harry said pleasantly when I came near. Ron muttered something in Harry's ear and walked away so it was just me and Harry. Well, me and Harry and the other thousands of people that were there.

"Hey! Great turn out," I commented.

He grinned. Merlin, someone _please_ keep my knees from knocking together…

"I suppose you want to put your stuff away?"

I nodded. With a chuckle, Harry turned around and we started heading up to the house.

"You'll be rooming with Hermione," Harry said after a moment of silence. "I have plenty of other rooms, if you'd rather sleep by yourself, but I'm sure you'd like being with someone else instead of being alone."

"Ah, Harry, you know me too well." I smiled at him, and he returned the gesture.

Inside the house, I noted the current furniture that matched the outside of the house. Everything was so new.

I sniffed. The house even _smelled_ new.

"Want a little tour?" Harry asked.

"Sure," I said, shrugging.

In the den, there were just as many people milling about as there were outside. They were just sitting around talking. I didn't think Harry _knew _this many people. He probably didn't. He's not really that social – I'm betting over half these people are friends of friends.

In the kitchen, there were more people. They were eating food.

In the living room, there were more people. They were playing video games.

In the bathroom, there were more people. They were peeing.

In the bedroom, there were – OH MY GOD!

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Harry apologized quickly, covering his eyes with his hands. The couple in the bed sprung apart and pulled the sheets up to cover themselves. I didn't recognize either of them. The man had shaggy brown hair, and the girl had very distinct features, unnaturally red lips, and long mahogany hair that I would think would be very pretty when it wasn't so disheveled. "Er, shit, I didn't mean to –"

The couple blinked embarrassedly at us. The girl pulled the covers completely up over her head.

"SHUT THE DOOR, HARRY!" I yelled at him, grabbed the doorknob and yanking it shut.

He uncovered his eyes. "Merlin, I didn't need to see that," he said. "And in Meredith's room, too…"

I felt my eyes automatically narrow. "Who's Meredith?" I tried to ask casually. Fail.

Harry turned slightly pink. I was too jealous of this Meredith chick to think of how adorable he was.

"You don't know?" he asked innocently. "I thought Hermione told you…"

"Told me what?"

"Meredith's my girlfriend. We've been dating for seven months."

I felt my mouth drop. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yup. She comes up here a lot. She says she loves the lake, but I know that she gets bored of it after a day or so up here. That's okay, though," Harry shrugged, "I still like her just the same."

Oh. My. God. He has a GIRLFRIEND? Whose name is MEREDITH? And they've been together for SEVEN FREAKING MONTHS?

Okay, Ginny, calm down. Mope later. Look on the bright side. He said he still _likes_ her just the same, not _loves_ her. That's good right? Plus, he said I looked lovely last Saturday after my date with Mark.

And _I_ was the one staying at his lake house until Tuesday. Not _her_.

But still! UGH! I felt angry and jealous and depressed all at the same time, and I couldn't let it show on my face.

Damn Harry! Damn him for ignoring me and avoiding me and lying to me and leading me on and breaking up with me and trying out for Puddlemere United and dating that Meredith bitch and inviting me to his lake house. Damn him for being so nice and gorgeous and sexy and ohh, my gosh….

"Ginny?" Harry said.

"Hmmm?" I said, snapping out of my not-so-innocent thoughts. God. He has a girlfriend, after all. Bad Ginny. BAD!

"This is the room you'll be staying in."

"Oh," I mumbled, looking around. It was a very large room, with two queen beds pushed up against opposite walls. It was a pastel yellow color, ideal for a modern lake house like Harry's, I supposed.

Hmm. Maybe I should forget Healing-slash-pro-Quidditch and become an interior decorator. _Ideal for a modern lake house, _my ass.

"Hermione's already claimed the bed near the door," Harry laughed, "but, personally, I prefer the one by the window best anyway."

"Er, thanks." I threw my duffel onto the bed by the window. It was a sky blue bedspread with sailboats on it. It was somewhat little-kiddish (though what use would a little kid have for a queen-sized bed, I don't know), but I liked it just the same. It was kind of comforting. Hermione's bed was similar, except it was navy with stars all over it.

"I like the covers," I commented with a million-galleon grin. Meredith my butt. Ha.

Harry looked at his feet sheepishly. "Shut up," he mumbled, blushing slightly. Aw, he's so cute! "I saw them and thought they were fun, but Meredith – who was helping me furnish this place – disagreed. She thought they were dumb. But I like them!"

Meredith. Great Godric, I just wanted to push her off of something tall. "I like them more!" I taunted, childishly.

"Nah-uh, I do!"

"That's a lie, Mr. Potter!" I said, laughing loudly. "Do you know where liars go?"

"Uh, hell?"

I made an obnoxious buzzing sound like one would hear on a Muggle game show. "INCORRECT! Liars go to time-out!"

Harry blinked at me for a moment before tilting his head back and bursting out laughing. I struggled to keep a straight face, but I managed.

"You heard me!" I said, moving around him to his back so I could push him. I shoved him to the nearest corner of the room (quite the feat, actually, because Harry was so heavy, but his laughter distracted him from his attempts to stop me) and made him stay there for a minute or two. He just stood there and laughed at the wall. What a creep.

I mean, honestly. I know I'm funny. That doesn't mean I want you to laugh like a maniac for 84763046 days.

That was an exaggeration. It was more like two minutes.

"Okay, well, I hope you'll be comfortable in here," Harry said once he sobered up and walked himself out of the corner. "Actually, I was looking for Meredith when I saw you… I better go. I'm planning on starting the boats in a few minutes."

Oh. He wasn't looking for me earlier. He was looking for his precious _Meredith_… "Okay, I'll be down there in a minute."

With a nod, Harry walked out of the room. I was alone.

I threw my head back to look at ceiling and sighed. Collapsing on the sailboat bed, I buried my head in the pillow. Harry had a girlfriend. But I was better than Meredith, I was sure.

I made a list in my head about my awesome qualities:

1. I was gorgeous

2. I was smart

3. I was funny

4. I wasn't conceited

5. I wasn't a slut

6. I was a good kisser

7. I was awesome

8. Did I already say I wasn't conceited?

9. I was athletic

10. Who _wouldn't_ want to date a redhead?

11. Crap. Meredith didn't have red hair, did she?

12. Why am I still making this list?

"Ugh," I groaned just as I heard footsteps coming into the room.

I looked up and found Hermione staring at me, looking somewhat concerned. I glared at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Thanks for telling me about _Meredith_," I sneered, ignoring her question. Okay, I knew it wasn't her fault for not telling me. She probably just forgot. Or she was trying to "protect" me. What is it with everyone protecting me all the freaking time? I could protect myself, thank you very much.

Hermione's face immediately rearranged into an expression of sympathy. I DON'T WANT YOUR BLOODY SYMPATHY, HERMIONE!

"Oh, Ginny!" she cried, rushing over to hug me. I shook her off, grumbling. "I'm so sorry! I knew I should have told you… wait." She looked at me with an intense gaze. "Who told you?"

"Harry."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said again. "I know that must have been hard for you –"

"Calm yourself, Hermione," I said, trying to laugh. Laughter cures all problems. Right? I mean, I was fine when I was laughing with Harry… "I'll be fine. It's not like I was in love with him or anything."

Hermione looked at me doubtfully, and I thought about my words. Was I in love with Harry?

…Nah. That's preposterous. I've never loved Harry. I would know it. Wouldn't I?

Ugh. This is all so confusing.

"What?" asked Hermione sharply.

"Crap did I say that out loud?"

Hermione snorted at me and nodded.

I smiled. I was glad I was easily distracted, and therefore able to enjoy myself more often, instead of being the type to mope around for ages like Harry or Amy.

Damn! I still had to tell Summer and Amy. _That_ was a conversation I didn't really want to have. _Oh, hate to break it to you, guys, but Harry's had a girlfriend for seven months now._ Then they would swarm me with apologies and Summer would be upset that the Sex God was taken, and then we'd go stuff our faces with ice cream. And laugh a lot, because laughter cures all problems. Then I'd go shag Mark, just to make me feel better.

…Nah, just kidding. I'm not _that_ desperate.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Hermione said lightly after a pause, "I think Meredith is an absolute tart."

I raised one eyebrow skillfully at her. Actually, it might have been two eyebrows. Or maybe I just looked constipated.

Note to self: practice one-eyebrow-raising in the mirror.

"I'm sure she'll be on the boat ride – she pretty much goes wherever Harry goes." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Actually, I haven't seen her around much since people started getting here. She always disappears mysteriously at parties."

"Why isn't she staying the weekend?" I asked. Then after a moment of thought, I added, "Not that I care, of course."

Hermione chuckled slightly. "She's going to Italy this weekend or something. Harry was totally bummed she couldn't come be with his best friends."

"I'm included in that?"

The older witch nodded. I felt myself smile, but I tried to restrain it. I wouldn't want Hermione to get ideas…

"Come on, let's go," Hermione said. "We'll want to get on Harry's boat – Seamus is driving the other one. It might explode or something."

Laughing, we walked out of the bedroom and through the house, where people were still milling about. We made small talk, and when we passed the previously-occupied bedroom Harry opened earlier, I burst out laughing.

Hermione looked at me like I was a loony and asked what was so funny. I told her nothing.

I wasn't funny at the time, it was just awkward. But now, looking back on it, I found it hilarious. People were having sex at Harry Potter's lake party.

Ha ha ha. That whole sentence just sounded _really_ odd.

As Hermione and I walked down to the dock, I briefly wondered where Summer and Amy had gotten off to.

I didn't have to look long, though. I found Summer over by the drinks chatting up some blond bloke. Then, walking down the final flight of wooden steps to the dock, I found Amy swimming in the lake, surrounded by two of our ex-roommates at Hogwarts. We used to have three, making it six Gryffindor girls in my class, but Michelle Walters, sadly, died in the War. I was upset, of course, but I didn't know her very well, and my own brother had just died. I wasn't too terribly shaken from her death. I had Fred, Remus, and Tonks to worry about.

I waved to Amy, Ella, and Kaitlyn before following Hermione to the other side of the dock, where we clambered into the boat. It was fairly large, as far as speedboats go, but I'm sure magic had a hand in how many people were comfortably sitting inside it right now. I was terrified when I stepped on the boat and walked to my seat, as it kept rocking back in forth. Was I really that fat?

I noticed the next person to climb into the boat had a similar reaction to mine. Ah, wizards. Hermione and I found seats next to Ron in the bow of the boat.

Looking around at the people, I saw Luna Lovegood sitting in the back under the awning next to a man with hair so blond it looked white. He actually kind of reminded me of Draco Malfoy, except this guy was a lot lankier, and more awkward-looking. Malfoy was really buff and collected.

…What? He may be a prat, but the boy's attractive!

I waved at Luna and smiled, and she beamed loftily back. She spoke to the man beside her and they got up to sit next to me.

"Hello, Ginny," Luna said in that dreamy voice of hers.

"Hi, Luna," I replied. "Who's your friend?"

Luna took the hand of the man. "This is Rolf Scamander. He's my boyfriend." She grinned happily.

"Oh!" I extended my hand to Rolf. "Hello! I'm Ginny Weasley."

"It's nice to meet you, Ginny," Rolf said. "Your hair is quite lovely. Did the mahoginacks make it orange like that?"

I ran a hand through my hair self-consciously. "Er, the what?"

"Mahoginacks," he repeated slowly.

"I don't know what those are."

If Rolf was impatient with me, he didn't show it. He calmly explained to me that mahoginacks were similar to seahorses, but they were a lot smaller and made homes in your hair. He said they chose brown-haired babies to nest in, and then proceeded to change the baby's hair color. I told him no, mahoginacks did not nest in my hair as a baby, thanks for asking.

I noticed Neville, who was sitting next to Ron, talking happily to Hannah Abbott. He wasn't looking at me, so I decided I would catch up with him later on the boat ride. Ron and Hermione were, for once, not arguing.

"…I could have sworn I saw her with Matthew Caldwell earlier," Ron was saying.

"Do you think we should tell him?" Hermione asked.

Ron shook his head. "Nah," he said. "He trusts her so much – and we're not even sure. She and Matthew could be just friends."

Hermione looked at him uncertainly. "A girl like her couldn't be 'just friends' with anyone."

"Who are you talking about?" I interjected.

"No one!" Ron said quickly. "Don't worry about it." Then he immediately turned to talk to Neville.

"You'll find out soon enough," Hermione said to me. Then she turned away and muttered to herself, "Honestly, I don't know _what_ he sees in her…"

Shrugging, I sat back and relaxed. What were we waiting on? Harry was behind the wheel, chatting lightly to a brown-haired bloke I didn't know.

Ugh. Must. Stop. Having. Thoughts. About. Harry.

Seamus's boat pulled out of the dock and began speeding away. The people on that boat screamed and whooped and put their hands in the air, enjoying the feel of the wind. I was ready for my first boat ride experience! Let's get a move on!

So, naturally, I said what was on my mind. "I'm ready for my first boat ride experience!" I hollered to Harry. "Let's get a move on!"

He looked away from the dude he was talking to (who was he? He was cute) and instead looked at me. He busted out laughing again. Honestly. The goal was for him to think I was _sexy_, not hilarious. Though I know I am both already. But that's not my point.

I have a big ego, okay? DON'T JUDGE.

"We'll go in a minute," Harry said. "Once Mere gets here."

_Mere_? He has a pet name for her? Only _I_ am allowed to get a pet name from him! Gin! Hello! Remember me, Potter? The best ex-girlfriend you've ever had?

"Leave without that bitch!" someone called. The voice was deep but unrecognizable; obviously some random bloke that showed up for the alcohol.

"Oi!" Harry defended. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about. So either shut your mouth and get off my boat or I will do it for you."

The freaky part about Harry being mad was that he hardly ever yelled. He stared at you and spoke calmly, and made you feel guilty. The Guilty Card was always the worst way to go, but always the most effective. It's what Dumbledore did, too. Harry reminds me of him so much in so many ways… except much hotter.

That got me thinking. Was Dumbledore attractive in his day? I could see how girls would like his eyes – they were a very pretty ice blue color – and I guess his auburn hair was a turn on (trust me I would know).

Muhahahaha. Redheads will rule the world one day. PREPARE YOURSELVES!

Ahem. Right. Anyway, back to the dude Harry just told off.

The guy didn't say anything after Harry yelled at him. Smart move on the dude's part, though. Harry did defeat the darkest wizard of all time. But that was no biggie. Just a day in the life of Harry Potter.

"So Ginny," Luna addressed me suddenly. I turned my focus on her instead of Harry. "How have you been?"

"Dandy, Luna," I said. "Just dandy." I didn't bother mentioning that I saw her about two weeks ago at graduation. She probably knew already but was just making small talk. Luna was smart like that. Actually, she was a lot smarter than people gave her credit for. I'd like to see _them_ remember all the weird things she does.

"Me, too," Luna said dreamily, squeezing Rolf's hand.

"So, er, how did you meet Rolf?" I asked. Someone in the back of the boat cat-called to someone else, but I ignored them and listened to the beginning of Luna's speech.

"Well, you see, I was in Russia looking for a Crumple-horned Snorkack with Daddy, as you know. It was a graduation present. Anyway, while we were there, we decided to…"

I stopped listening when I felt the boat jostle. It wasn't a big movement, though – nothing like the ones any of the rest of us had made, shaking the whole boat. It was a dainty step. I looked to the dock, saw _her_ climb in, and then I felt my mouth drop in astonishment.

* * *

**A/N: that was a really badly-written cliff-hanger... See, I had written on but I decided it was long enough and it's been a long day at band camp sooooo yall better be glad I'm getting this out now.**

**IT'S SO HOT. 110 degrees + humidity = band camp torture.  
I don't even understand why I - as a dance team member - have to go to band camp. I'll learn my sets, my dances, and I'll leave. I don't need to perfect my sound. I don't play an instrument.  
**

**Oh and the FTSK concert = awesome. Moving on to the New Found Glory concert next month. WHOOO! And after that, FRAMING HANLEY. Yeeee  
****GO READ LEAH'S (BubblyAmericanWriter1) STORY. She finally named it. It's called _Cliche, much?_ Pretty cute title if you as me. But Leah's a pretty cute person. So. That's that. (;**

**Songs: Fool Everyone - A Rocket To The Moon; Secret Crowds - Angels and Airwaves; crushcrushcrush - Paramore; Fifteen - Taylor Swift ( I had a random craving to listen to it...); Myspace Girl - The Afters**

**B/N: Oh my god, I swear, I really hate cliffhangers. They need to go crawl in**** a hole and die! But I really loved this chapter, and thanks so much for the**** shout out! :) It's been a while since I've written anything so I'm not sure**** of the response I'll get for the story but whether it's 1 review or 100 I'll**** still be happy. :)Oh, and I'm not a cute person... a unique person yeah, a random person,**** definitely, but cute? Meh, that could be debated. Anyways, REVIEW. Cuz the**** totally awesome Beta commands you! XD**

**A/N: Well I think you're cute. And I FINALLY got a new phone. I had the Samsung Glyde, on of Verizon's first touch phones... IT SUCKS PISS! NEVER GET IT! But now I have the Samsung Intensity. **

**I LOVE RAMBLING. I think I'll do it more often. Okay. Well. This is weird. Review. Okaybye.**


	5. Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

**SORRYYYYY. It took a while. I've been so busy (insert long explanation here) buuuuuut there's only three days of summer left before school starts and I'll be a sophomore. yayay.**

**Let me explain to you Alabama Band Camp in a nutshell.**

**109 degree weather + UV index + additional humidity that is absolutely sweltering. IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO KEEP KIDS OUTSIDE WHEN IT'S THAT HOT.  
I was about to lecture you about our times and days and such but I spared you. I'm just feeling nice because this chapter is a lot shorter than I planned for it to be.**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and everything you recognize.  
**

* * *

_Don't you think we ought to know by now?  
Don't you think we should've learned somehow?_  
_My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room._  
-Slow Dancing In A Burning Room – John Mayer

* * *

Harry was dating_ that_? Really?

Meredith was the epitome of the word "whore." Her rich brown hair was long and perfectly straight, and obviously dyed. No one's hair could be that shiny without dye. Or maybe she used a lot of conditioner. She probably used half the bottle every time she took a shower.

I self-consciously ran a hand through my own long strawberry locks. Note to self: use more conditioner.

She had the perfect body, curves in all the right places and pencil thin. Her facial features were very sharp and distinct, her lips an unnatural red color and her cheekbones cutting into her sun-browned skin. Her legs were about a mile long, tanned and toned. She wore the shortest blue jean shorts I've ever seen and a flowy hot pink tank top.

I hated her.

Not just because she was Harry's girlfriend, or because she wore pink (I hated the color pink). She just looked so absolutely fake that it was hard to believe she was real. But there she was, climbing into the boat gracefully and plopping herself down in Harry's lap.

"Alright, let's get going!" Harry announced. "Larry, you're going to water-ski, right?" The guy named Larry nodded excitedly and jumped off the boat and into the water. He had weird planks of plastic on his feet. He grabbed onto a rope that was attached to the boat and sat in the water. There was another rope connected to the boat on the other side and there were three people lounging idly on a thick red float. "Ready?" Harry called to the people on the float. They all gave him thumbs up.

Harry put his arms on either side of Meredith so he could grip the wheel. He pulled a lever and the boat took off from the dock.

The feeling was exhilarating. I turned my face away from the sight of Harry and Meredith and looked instead to the lake, watching the other houses fly by and water part ways for the boat. The wind blew my hair back and cleared my head.

I looked to the back of the boat, where the guy named Larry was bringing dragged over the water on the plastic by the rope that was attached to the boat.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed. I poked Hermione and pointed at him. "Look at that! I want to try!"

"Well, we have all weekend," Hermione said, laughing at me.

"Oh, right," I said. I looked at the other people on the so-called "tube". That looked nothing like a tube. It was a doughnut-shaped float, except without the hole in the center. It had handles on the top of it, and the three riders seemed to be clinging on to them for dear life. Harry took a sharp turn, and the tube went upward. The three riders shrieked and screamed, looking as though they were about to fall off, but they laughed once they righted themselves.

I shifted my gaze again to Harry and Meredith. He was saying something to her (though he should have been watching where he was going… what if we ran into a cliff out here or something?) and she did not look very happy about it. I strained my ears to listen, but all I could hear was the wind whistling around me.

I was in shock of Meredith, but even more so with Harry. How could he go from _me_ to _her_? I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything, but I was _perfect_ for him. And he was perfect for me.

We had our differences, but that's what made us so good together. We balanced each other out. I was more outgoing than him, so I made him get out of his shell a little bit. He was a bit more restrained than I was, so he calmed me down. I liked music I could rock out to, and he liked calm stuff. I had the biggest sweet-tooth, and he liked fruit. I was reckless, he was cautious. I liked Charms, he liked Defense Against the Dark Arts. Little everyday things like that balanced us out.

We also had our similarities. We both liked Quidditch, Honeydukes dark chocolate, and Muggle music. We both were loyal to our friends, our leaders, and our house. Meredith didn't seem like the loyal type. I wouldn't be surprised if she was cheating on Harry right now.

I guess that's what Hermione and Ron were discussing. What was the guy's name again? Matthew Caldwell. He sounded like a douchebag.

How did Harry _meet_ this girl, anyway? Did she go to Hogwarts? Was she a witch? How _old_ was she? I mean, she didn't look old, but still. Older women love money and influence.

I let out an audible gasp. Luna and Hermione immediately turned to look at me, but I ignored them. _Of course_ that was the reason she was with Harry. He was the most popular person in the Wizarding world right now. He was rich as mess, not to mention extremely attractive. He defeated Voldemort. He was "The Chosen One." _Of course _Meredith would want him. _Everyone_ wants him. Hermione once told me a married woman in Diagon Alley asked him to sign her breast. Weird much? I think so.

I wouldn't be surprised if Meredith really _was_ cheating on Harry. Not only did she just seem the type, and she looked a lot like that girl Harry and I walked in on earlier (I'm not saying it was her, but you never know), but it was completely logical. She probably didn't even like Harry. She was just using him to make herself look better. I mean, it sounds really cool when someone asks you who you're dating and you get to respond "Harry Potter" (trust me, I would know). It fills you with pride, because you were able to snag the savior of the planet – literally – and they weren't. Plus he's rich and powerful.

Poor Harry probably had no idea. He probably thought of Meredith as an angel. She was just a very pretty girl who happened to be around in Harry's time of need. All she had to do was offer him a helping hand and a few understanding words, and she had it in the bag. I knew from personal experience how vulnerable Harry was when he was dealing with something, and of course the War would take the longest for him to get over.

At the beginning, I'm sure Meredith made empty promises that she would keep him out of the spotlight, and get him away from the press so he could be normal. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm guessing the majority of the people at this stupid party were here because of her.

Sigh. Poor Harry. He was too good for her. In case you're wondering why I haven't broken down and started crying yet, it was because I wasn't that kind of girl. I hardly ever cried. The only time I have cried that I remember was when Ron, Hermione, and Harry left on that top-secret mission of theirs. I cried all throughout Hogwarts for their safety, as well as the safety of us as students. I also cried when Fred died. Overall, that was a very tearful year.

I also haven't cried because I am a ninja. And ninja's don't cry. Do they?

Distracted, I thought about this as Harry twisted and turned the boat to shake off the people on the ropes. I wonder if Hitler had ever made a ninja cry. Hmm. Hitler. I wonder what people at Hogwarts did during World War II? I could ask Auntie Muriel, as I'm sure she's old enough to know, but I didn't really want to be smelling her again anytime soon. I saw her at Fred's funeral and that has been recent enough for me.

Maybe Hitler and Old Voldy should have had a face-off. Obviously, Voldemort would win, but it would still be interesting. Of course, there would be ninjas present.

Right, back to Harry and Meredith. Yeah they didn't look good together. And she disgusted me. And I was somewhat disgusted with him for dating someone like that. And I was also somewhat disgusted with myself for the way I was handling this.

I had pined over Harry Potter since I was eleven. I'm eighteen now. That's seven years of being obsessed with one person. I watched him go through all these epic fights with snakes, dragons, Voldemort… I'd even been with him in some cases, fighting by his side. Those were things that scared me half to death and made me stay up late at night worrying about him. I watched him go through tough times with girls, professors, and friends. Those were things that normal people had to go through.

I don't really know how to explain it, but being by his side and watching all this happen – especially after I turned fourteen – made it this all the more real to me. Sure, Harry and I had dated, but looking back now it must have been awkward for him. He clearly sees me as nothing more than a little sister. It's okay for a brother to tell his sister she looks lovely, isn't it? It's okay for a brother to invite his sister to the lake, right?

Well that's just great. Really.

Okay, whoa. Too many random thoughts bouncing around in my head. Yes, Meredith looked like a slut. Yes, Harry was stupid for asking her out. Yes, Voldemort could probably make a ninja cry. Yes, I was _over_ Harry. And _yes_, if I keep telling myself that, it will happen. One day I will magically wake up and think to myself, "Harry Potter is a tosser and I don't like him." But I wouldn't tell that to myself, because I _don't_ like him.

…That sentence was really confusing. Whatever. It made sense in my head. My point is that I don't like Harry James Potter in any way, shape, or form.

I was distracted when there was a sharp turn, a shriek, and a loud _splash!_ Looking to the back of the boat, I saw that one of the riders on the tube had fallen off. She was just bobbing up and down in the water, wearing her Lifesaver-vest-thing of course, getting smaller and smaller as the boat kept zooming away. The other two riders on the tube and the guy named Larry on the plastic board kept looking back at her.

"Harry! Harry!" they were calling. Other people on the boat were calling out Harry's name as well, but he didn't appear to be listening. Actually, I don't think he even knew the girl had fallen off. He was staring crossly at Meredith, who was still perched whoreishly in his lap, and driving the boat with one hand on the wheel and the other hand on Meredith's tan thigh.

I wish I was tan. Stupid red hair.

Nah, I loved my red hair. And my paleness. And my awesomeness. I'm just awesome. Meredith's just a brown-haired, tan, not-awesome whore. Yeah, that's it.

"Oi! Potter!" Some fat bloke yelled, his voice a deep baritone that caught Harry's attention.

"What is it?" Harry asked, clearly annoyed. He kept staring at Meredith with an expression I couldn't place.

The fat guy jabbed his thumb behind him.

"Yes, I _see_ the riders, Hank," Harry said impatiently. "Thank you."

"No, some bird just fell off!"

Harry slowed the speed of the boat as he looked behind him. "I don't see anything," he said, squinting.

"One of the tube riders is missing, Harry!" Hermione cut in. "We'll need to turn around."

He looked behind him again, clearly noticing the missing rider. He made a cutting turn with the boat and then we were heading back the way we came.

The wind whipped my hair all about my face, and I had to bunch it up into a ponytail with my hand. Nevertheless, it felt good. It would be so much better if there weren't so many people. It seemed like a great idea to push some of the boat riders off a cliff. Namely, Meredith. There were tons of tall ledges lining the sides of the lake, wooden staircases winding from the water up the rocks to a house that must be hidden behind all the trees. All that had to be done was magic her up to the top and force her off.

Maybe she'd die. Hopefully she'd die.

Was that mean? Eh. It's my head and I can be as mean as I want. Even if that meant wanting to push Harry's girlfriend of seven months off a cliff, then that's fine by me. I also wanted to shave those humongous boobs of hers off with a bulldozer. They might actually remain intact with all that toilet paper she's obviously got stuffed in there.

Ouch. Burn.

The tube rider was waving her arms above her head when she came into view again. Looking relieved, she quit the action and began swimming towards the boat. Harry killed the engine and waited for the girl to clamber back onto the tube, with the help of the other two riders.

"Sorry, folks, but I think I'm going to head back," Harry announced while the rider got her grip on the handles of the tube. Larry-the-plastic-board-rider was just sitting in the water with the rope, waiting for Harry to start the boat again so he could ride the wake.

There was a collective groan amongst the boat riders. Many people, mostly blokes, voiced their disagreement with this declaration. If I were them, I'd watch my mouth. He was Harry Potter, after all, and he could kick your ass.

…Okay that was somewhat hypocritical. I never watched _my_ mouth around Harry. But I never watched my mouth around anyone. And Harry knew I was joking.

I think.

Anyway, people complained that they didn't want the boat ride to end.

"It's getting too dark for the riders of the tube and skis to see," Harry explained, though I had a feeling there was another reason he was heading in early. I also had a feeling that that reason was Meredith. At least, I hoped it was. "Besides, you all want to go back to the party, right?"

A few people cheered, and one guy shouted, "More booze!" There was even more cheering after that, and Harry started the engine once more and we were off.

I watched Harry the entire way back to his lake house. Partly because I was trying to eavesdrop, and also because that's the way the wind was blowing, so my hair didn't get all in my face again. And _damn_ has that boy gotten even hotter since I'd seen him last! I hadn't really thought about it at first (though I'd certainly noticed when I saw him at the Burrow and all the other times after that), but now I was getting a real good look at him.

He had let his hair grow out again. After the War, he had shaved it all off. I think it was like a sign of mourning or something. He claimed it was just because it was hard to manage – which I believe, because it was unmanageable when it was short, as well – as it had grown out to his shoulders throughout the year while he was on his mission. I knew the general details of that mission, thanks to Hermione (not Ron, of course, he doesn't tell me anything), but not much. I knew it was a _lot _more gruesome and dangerous than what Hermione had told me, but I didn't mind not knowing. It was their business, not mine.

But now, Harry's jet-black hair was normal again and flopping sloppily into his eyes. He could always pull off the "messy" look effortlessly. I had seen (and dated) numerous boys who tried to style their hair so that it hung messily in their faces, but they just looked more like morons with a bird's nest on their head. Harry's looked flawless and silky and shiny and inky and glossy. The memories I have of running my hands through that hair did it no justice, I knew. It was just so _soft_!

His eyes were as shocking as ever. An unnatural shade of emerald, his eyes were absolutely _mesmerizing_. Any girl would pluck their own hair out of his eyes. There were slightly feminine, as they were very large and doe-like, but on Harry they were perfect with his chiseled features. His sharp cheekbones and strong jaw line defined his face, and he had a sprinkle of light freckles across his nose that were absolutely adorable.

And his body – whew, don't even get me started! He was tan and toned and yummy. Though I had not seen him without a shirt since before the War, I knew what lay underneath had only increased by a tenfold. Three years ago, Harry's stomach was smooth and defined. Now, though, I'm sure he had the abdomen that came with the rough lifestyle that he had lived over two years ago.

He was beautiful. He was intimidating and endearing and reserved and friendly and introverted and outgoing all at once.

But I don't like him, I swear. I'm completely over him.

Yup.

Just then, he snapped his striking green eyes over to me. I kept staring back at him evenly; though in my head I was screaming at him to look away and make sure we don't crash or something.

He just kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

BOOM AND THEN WE CRASHED INTO A GIANT ROCK OH MY GOD! AND OH NO, WHO JUST GOT THROWN OVERBOARD BY THE MOMENTUM OF THE CRASH? WAS THAT MEREDITH? OH MY GOD!

Ha ha. Just kidding. That didn't happen. He just kept staring at me and I just kept staring at him and Meredith kept sitting in his lap like a whore and the boat kept up its easy speed through the now-inky water.

He pulled up to the side of a dock and I realized we had returned to the party.

"Alright, we're here," Harry said loudly, not breaking our eye contact. As everyone in the boat scrambled out, Harry just kept staring. Meredith got up off his lap wordlessly and sauntered off the boat, hips swinging in a way that made me want to gag myself. But he just kept staring.

I felt the people around me get up and leave, chattering with each other. Luna, Rolf, Hermione, and Ron clambered onto the dock, laughing at some joke Ron had made, followed by an awkward statement by Luna. But I wasn't really listening. All I could hear was the echo of the wind in my ears, and the sound of three words being spoken in my ear.

"_I love you,"_ Harry's sixteen-year-old voice whispered to me in my head.

How could he forget? How could be possibly move on?

We kept on staring wordlessly until we were the only ones left in the boat. The party was unfolding around us on the dock, but we kept on staring.

We kept on staring.

And we kept on staring.

And then Harry looked down, pulled out the keys to the boat, stood, and walked away.

And then I was alone in the boat, thinking about how I should have learned my lesson the first time.

* * *

_We're going down, and you can see it, too. We're going down, and you know that we're doomed.  
My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room._

* * *

**A/N: I just had to add in the last lyrics to this song. It's just so perfect for this story, ya know? IF YOU'VE NEVER HEARD SLOW DANCING IN A BURNING ROOM BY JOHN MAYER GO LISTEN TO IT NOW!**

**After you review, of course.**

**I was gonna make this chapter longer, but I decided here was a good place to stop. More dramatic, ya know? Whatever. and sorry for any errors.**

**Songs: Hope -Jack Johnson; Memories That Fade Like Photographs - All Time Low; Noel - All Time Low; Break Out! Break Out! (Acoustic) - All Time Low; The Way We Talk - The Maine**

**B/N: Gimme the next chaper. NOW. Loved it! Review you guys! I start school on the 19th. D:  
**

**A/N: Don't forget to check out the chapter images on photobucket! Gryffindordoll91. Hit me up in IM if you have suggestions for this story: liveYOURlife075!**


	6. Tiny Vessels

**It took a while, and this one's still shorter than I wanted, but I wanted to stop it where I stopped it. So I did.**

**And again, don't hate on Ginny's personality or else you're hating on mine. Ginny's conceited, I'm conceited. GET OVER IT.**

**photobucket(dot)com, search people (Gryffindordoll91) and look at the banner/chapter images!**

**Also, this chapter may have errors because it hasn't been beta'd yet. When it is, I'll repost.  
**

* * *

_All I see are dark gray clouds  
In the distance moving closer with every hour  
So when you ask "Is something wrong?"  
I think "You're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.  
No, we can't talk about it now."  
So one last touch and then you'll go  
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more  
But it was vile, and it was cheap  
and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me._  
-Tiny Vessels – Death Cab For Cutie

* * *

Harry didn't talk to me for the rest of the night. I found Summer and Amy and told them about Meredith (I don't even want to tell you about how they reacted… let's just say I'm surprised I can hear after their screams), and I found myself at the bar, once again. I always seem to wind up there. Gosh. I'm so pathetic.

But not really. I'm a ninja genius.

The highlight of the night was when Summer pushed Meredith into the lake. She made it look like an accident, but I could tell by the smirk on her face that it was completely on purpose. Meredith screamed and called her a bitch, and Summer just laughed. I saw Ron laughing, but I don't think Harry was very amused. He held out his hand to help up his girlfriend, but she ignored him and used the ladder, her make-up streaming down her face.

She really wasn't very pretty without make-up. Or when she was mad. Or when she was wet. Or when she had make-up on. Or when she was calm. Or when she was dry. She was just all ugly all day. Ha, ha.

There weren't many people remaining at the party when Summer and Amy found me sitting at the bar, flirting with the barman.

"Ginny, stop moping," Amy said, frowning.

"I'm not moping," I snapped.

"We've told you, like, a million times to get over him," Summer told me, eying the barman I was just talking to.

I sighed and took a drink of my firewhiskey. "It's easier said than done."

She gave me a sympathetic look. "I know it's tough, love," she said, "but things will get better."

Instead of replying, I took another sip of firewhiskey, enjoying the feel of it burning my throat. It took my mind off things.

"Look on the bright side, Gin," Amy said, combing her fingers through my hair comfortingly, "you'll always have Mark."

"Not necess– ow!" Summer started, but she was cut off when Amy oh-so-subtly stepped on her foot.

I swished my firewhiskey around in the glass dejectedly. I was tired, upset, and my head was aching due to the loud music the DJ was still thrumming. It was about two in the morning right now. I just wanted to curl up in the sailboat bed, throw the covers up over my head, and sleep. Actually, scratch that. I wanted to curl up in my own bed at the Burrow and forget Harry Potter ever existed.

Wait, scratch that, too. I wanted to forget _Meredith_ ever existed. A world without Harry Potter was like a world without the sun. It just didn't happen.

"Thanks guys," I said to my best friends. This was their way of comforting me, and it always worked. They would try to help, but they'd screw up, and then they'd start fighting, and then they'd "look on the bright side," and then they'd just goof off to make it seem like things were back to normal.

But things were never back to normal.

All night I'd been sitting here, watching people chat and dance and embarrass themselves, but the vision of the party wasn't really there. It was just emerald eyes. All night I'd been sitting here, listening to the DJ blast out popular music, but I couldn't really hear it. It was just "I love you."

We were sixteen, for Merlin's sake!

Okay, settle down, Ginny. It's not like he meant those words. Obviously. He's probably told them to Meredith, like, 3458736 times already.

Ungh.

"Okay, well we're going to leave," Amy said.

"'Kay," I said, taking another gulp of firewhiskey.

"All the cute boys are gone," Summer whined. I think she might have stomped her foot. Ha.

"Good thing we're leaving, then," replied Amy. Then she gave me a big hug. "Have a great weekend here, Gin."

"'Kay."

"If you ever feel uncomfortable or upset or anything, just Apparate back to Summer's."

"'Kay."

"Write to us."

"'Kay."

Summer rolled her eyes at us. "She'll be gone for three days, not eight years," she said to Amy.

"Okay, okay, calm yourself," Amy said, patting her hair down. I snorted and then took another sip of firewhiskey.

"Bye, Ginny!" Summer practically shouted, already turning to leave. "Have fun!"

And then they were gone. I turned back to the bar area and the attractive barman looked at me. He had been chatting me up earlier (literally), and I had been okay with that because I was upset with my predicament with Harry. The barman was a dark, rough-looking guy with sparkling chocolate eyes and a cute smile. He had a strong jawbone and sharp cheekbones, but he was nowhere near as attractive as Mark. And Mark was nowhere near as attractive as Harry.

It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Barman is less than Mark who is less than Harry who trumps all. See? I can apply math into my love life. How awesome is that?

"So, uh," the barman began, "who was your friend? The blonde?"

I just blinked at him. Was he seriously asking about Summer when not two minutes ago he had been flirting with _me_?

"Fuck off," I said, picking up my firewhiskey and walking away.

I wasn't really looking for anyone in particular, but I did pass Luna and Rolf sitting on the rocks by the water. Her head was on his shoulder, and their hands were intertwined. It made me happy to know that people like Luna could find a soul mate… now I just had to find mine.

"Ginny?" said a female voice. I looked away from Luna and Rolf to see a pretty, dark-haired girl standing in front of me.

What the hell was Cho Chang doing here? Didn't Harry hate her? WHO THE HELL MADE THIS GUEST LIST AND WHY THE HELL DID THEY INVITE CHO CHANG AND MEREDITH. I MEAN, REALLY.

"Oh, hi, Cho," I said as brightly as I could. It was kind of uncomfortable. I mean, I dated Harry after her. Ex-girlfriend against ex-girlfriend.

Talk about awkward.

She grinned and gave me a hug. I was in too much shock to hug her back, so Cho quickly stepped back and looked down somewhat abashedly.

"You look great!" she said, smiling again. Merlin. Stop smiling.

"Thanks, you do too." Cho was dressed in a one-shouldered denim romper and tall wedges. I couldn't pull that outfit off, but it looked really good on her. So I said that out loud.

"Aw, you're making me blush," she laughed after I complimented her. "But I'm sure you could pull this outfit off!"

I laughed in reply, and she made a calculating face at me. I was kind of scared of what she was going to say next, but as long as it wasn't anything along the lines of _I think we_ –

"I think we should go shopping together!" Cho said excitedly. Shit. That's exactly what I was hoping she wouldn't say.

"Yeah, sounds great," I said, smiling through my teeth.

"Okay, well, I'll write to you and we'll figure out a date!" She looked at someone over my shoulder and started waving at them. "There's Peyton. It was good to see you, Ginny!" She smiled again and started walking away.

Whew. Bye. That was so awkward. I'm sure that if she ever does send me a letter, I'll be sure to "accidentally" throw it in the fire. And I'll never be able to look good in a romper… what kind of drugs is she on to even _think_ that could be a possibility?

Whatever. It's two o'clock in the morning. I'm exhausted. I'm pissed. My head still hurts.

I made my way into the house, which was considerably emptier than it had been about ten hours ago, and set my glass of firewhiskey on a random table. Then I took a left turn, just like Harry had shown me. Wait. Was it a left turn or was it a right turn? I kept walking and took another left. None of these rooms looked familiar. I looked behind me, and all I saw were rows and rows of closed doors. It looked kind of creepy because it was so dark, and the moving pictures that lined the hall made it look like there were eerie shadows on the walls.

Weren't lake houses supposed to be small and cabin-like? And where was the light switch? Actually, the best question here would be WHERE THE HELL AM I?

At the end of the hallway, I took a right. Walking a little bit more, I came across a black spiral staircase. I would have walked by it completely if I hadn't been distracted by a picture of a fat man eating a hamburger that hung on the wall next to it.

I walked to the staircase cautiously and looked up. I couldn't see anything, but I heard an odd noise, like metal-on-metal. I figured the sound must be coming from somewhere farther down the hallway.

Curiosity taking the best of me, as it always did, I climbed up the spiral staircase. My flip-flops clanged loudly against the elaborately-designed black metal that made up each step. I looked down below me to make sure I was alone. I was.

It wasn't a very tall staircase, but by the time I got to the top I was tired. The fatigue was shadowed when I found myself emerging on the next floor, only to find… nothing. There was nothing up here at all. It was just a wide, gray-colored room with tall windows lining the left side, each covered with long, dark blue curtains.

I heard the sound of metal again, and let out a small squeak of surprise.

"Who goes there?" called out a gruff voice. I looked around, slightly frightened. "Show yourself, you beetle-headed minnow!"

What. The. Hell. Stepping forward just a little more, I walked into the center of the room. The walls to my left, right, and behind me were all just grey, but the wall in front of me was a solo portrait.

"Sir Cadogan?" I said in disbelief. Why did Harry have the portrait of Sir Cadogan in his lake house? Didn't that portrait hang on the Seventh Floor corridor in Hogwarts?

Sir Cadogan was a little knight that wore a huge suit of armor and carried a sword that was about three times his size. He rode a fat pony that seemed as though it could barely hold up the weight of its rider. To put it simply, Sir Cadogan was _insane_.

"Face me, you muddy-mottled babbling gossip!" He waved his sword around at me in a rather unintimidating fashion.

"Calm down!" I told the knight. "I was just trying to see what was up here!"

"You should not be here, braggart!" Sir Cadogan said. "I guard this land for Sir Potter and NO ONE ELSE!"

Okay, by this point I was a little confused. First: what in Merlin's name is a braggart? Second: What was this room? Third: Why did Harry have Sir Cadogan guarding it for him? Something was not right.

"I'm a friend of Harry's!" I told him before he did something dumb, like poke his pony's eye out with his sword.

Sir Cadogan stopped his wild sword-waving and looked me up and down. I felt kind of creeped out. I was being checked out by a portrait. Merlin, I was going crazy.

"Are you a Weasley?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"Are you Ginny?"

I nodded again, not seeing anything odd about him knowing my name.

"Pass on, my lady!" Sir Cadogan said, his handlebar mustache rising and falling with each word he said.

"Pass on where?" I asked.

"Pick a portal!" he replied, gesturing to the windows to my left. I started walking toward the nearest one and pushed aside the navy curtain: they weren't windows, they were glass doors. I jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. I went to the next one. Also locked. The next door I tried opened, and the first thing I felt was chilly wind. I stepped through it, and found myself stepping out onto a balcony.

Walking forward a little more, I reached the black railing of the balcony and rested my forearms against it. The balcony overlooked the grounds of the lake house, and I looked down to see if I could creep on some more partygoers like I had been doing earlier… but there was no one there. I looked around some more, and saw that the bar and the DJ and everything were gone. I guessed Harry had cleared the place out right after I went inside. Well okay then.

I shifted my gaze down to the dock, and my eyes landed on the gigantic expanse of dark water. The light of the moon reflected on the inky blackness, sparkling against the water every time the wind blew. The dock was now vacant and calm, as opposed the populated and busy area it had been during the party, set eerily against a backdrop of black sky and a white sliver of moon.

Looking up into the sky, my breath was nearly taken away. Millions upon millions of yellow stars were clustered together, more than I could ever see even at the Burrow. They were beautiful. I stared up at them for so long my neck started hurting, but I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from them. I didn't feel tired anymore. Looking at the stars made me forget about my headache. It made me forget about Harry and Meredith and Charlie and everything else that was screwing over in my life. It made me think that somewhere out there, maybe, there might be a greater purpose for me. It made me realize that life was only so long, and that I needed to live while I could.

While I watched, something white streaked across the sky. It couldn't have been a Muggle aeroplain or whatever, it was too fast. It had to have been a shooting star, I was sure of it.

I smiled to myself and closed my eyes, feeling my hands involuntarily tighten around the balcony's railing. What I was about to do felt really cliché, but it made me feel better.

"Dear shooting star," I said aloud, my voice getting carried away in the summer wind, "I'm in love with Harry Potter, and I wish he would love me back."

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I opened my eyes and looked at the sky once again. The stars twinkled at me, as though laughing at my weakness, at my vulnerability. My heart felt light after my confession.

I'm in love with Harry Potter.

And I wish he would love me back.

Sighing, I unglued my eyes from the stars. I found myself staring at nothing, thinking of nothing except Harry. Merlin. I was so helpless.

I was distracted by a shadow moving back and forth across the dock. Focusing in on it, all I could see was a silhouette pacing back and forth along the side of the dock, occasionally stopping and turning its head. It was a boy, I could tell. My heart stopped when the first person that came to mind of who this person could be was Harry. What if it was him? It probably was. He seemed like the type to go and pace at a quarter till three in the morning, but I'd rather have him do that than be inside somewhere sleeping peacefully and dreaming about his precious Meredith.

Gah. I was so pathetically bitter.

I kind of wanted to go down to the dock and see if it really was Harry. If it was, I would demand to know what him problem was. I wouldn't look into his eyes and melt and I wouldn't long to touch his silky hair and I wouldn't stare at his lips and wish I could brush them with my own. Because I couldn't. He wasn't mine, no matter how hard I wished he was.

Walking back inside from the balcony, I reentered the gray room, said good-bye to Sir Cadogan ("Farewell, fair maiden! If you ever have the need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"*), and went down the spiral staircase again.

I had no trouble getting out of the creepy hallways, because all I had to do was go back the way I came. I walked silently through the den, briefly wondering where Ron and Hermione were and why I hadn't seen them at the party since the boat ride.

I opened the back door and glided down the grassy slope until I hit the ramp of the dock. I could hear the water lapping against the side of the dock's smooth wood, and I could hear the steady footsteps of the boy walking to and fro as he muttered to himself.

I walked quietly down the ramp. When I reached the landing, the dock jostled slightly when I stepped on it. I heard the footsteps stop moving and I froze.

"Hello?" came a deep voice. Yep, it was definitely Harry out here.

My heart beating rapidly inside my chest, I stepped around the side of the dock where I was standing and Harry came into view, looking very wary.

"Hey," I said, coming to stand next to him.

"Hi, Ginny," he said quietly. He studied me for a moment, his green eyes piercing, and then turned his head upward to look at the beautiful expanse of stars.

I tore my gaze away from him and also looked at the sky. The stars gleamed at me again, mocking my racing heartbeat. I was so close to Harry. Close enough to look into his eyes and melt and close enough to long to touch his silky hair and close enough to stare at his lips and wish I could brush them with my own.

…Damn.

"I saw you found the Cave," Harry said to me, not looking away from the sky.

I nodded, but then I realized he couldn't see me. "Yeah," I replied. "I had a chat with Sir Cadogan."

Harry laughed and looked down at his shoes, as though hanging his head in shame. Aww. He was so adorable. "Yep…" he said, popping the 'p'.

"How'd you know I found it?"

He gestured up toward the lake house. "I could see you on the balcony."

"Oh," I said awkwardly. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come down here.

He looked up at the sky again. My hand was itching to reach out and grab his… he was so close…

"Have you ever looked at the stars, and wondered what your purpose is in life?" Harry asked suddenly. "Have you ever saw a star shoot past and wish things were different?"

He shifted his emerald eyes down to meet my brown ones. There was a look of urgency in his stare, and it was all I could do to nod meekly.

He looked at me. I looked at him.

He just kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

And I loved him.

But I swear I'll keep denying it.

"So why did you come down here?" he questioned, clearing his throat. He was so scatterbrained right now.

Instead of responding, I scrutinized his face. "Is something wrong?"

Harry dropped his chin to his chest and looked back at me, shaking his head with a small smile. "You wouldn't understand," he said. He licked his lips and smiled a little wider. "It's complicated."

"Try me."

"No."

"I want to help you, Harry!" I said stubbornly.

"I can't talk about it now," he responded.

"Why not?"

"Because I just can't, Ginny!" Harry's eyes were a shocking electric green, wild and imperative.

I folded my arms across my chest and sunk back to rest my weight on one leg, trying to convey to him that I would stay there until he told me what was going on.

"Is it about Meredith?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

Harry looked down for a moment, then back into my eyes. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Yep."

He looked at the stars once more. Awkward.

I unfolded my arms and placed a hand on his shoulder in what I hoped seemed like a friendly manner, even though just touching him sent fire all along my arm which spread all throughout my body.

"You can talk to me," I said gently. "You know that, right, Harry?"

He met my gaze and nodded, his lips pursed. I slid my hand off his shoulder, and now both my arms hung lamely by my sides. Deciding there was nothing else I could say, I started moving to leave. But before I could turn completely, I felt myself hesitate. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"If I asked you a question would you answer honestly?"

Harry's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he nodded.

I took a deep breath. There was a question burning inside my mouth, and it bubbled unstoppably from my lips before I could lose my nerve.

I slid my eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression on his face. "Do you really like Meredith?" It came out as a whisper, though I had intended it to sound very confident and sure. I was holding my breath, knowing how important it was for me to have Harry answer the question truthfully. "As in, do you honestly and truly like her?"

I opened my eyes and saw Harry's face was expressionless, empty of any kind of emotion.

"No," he answered unflappably.

And with a nod, I turned and left, leaving Harry to think himself over, alone on the dock. As I walked across the grass, I found that I wasn't thinking about my headache and I wasn't thinking about sleep and I wasn't thinking about my hatred for Meredith.

No, what I found myself about was how, in the end, Harry and I always ended up alone.

Always. We always ended alone.

* * *

*JKR owns this quote (HP&tPOA)

**A/N: Nothing really funny in this chapter, and the conversation between Harry and Ginny did not turn out exactly like I wanted... I want to get a move on with the romance! But I guess I have to show the awkward encounters between Harry and Ginny first, and then I have to get Meredith out of the picture. Yeeeeeeee**

**Well, our football team has lost all three games we've played so far, the worst defeat last Friday night 0-60. Buuuuuut our band dominates (best in the southeast for the past like 10 years!). **

**Anywayyyyyyy review.**

**Songs: Fall Back Down (Acoustic) - Lights; Company Calls Epilogue - Death Cab For Cutie; Birds - Kate Nash; Yellow - Coldplay; Youtopia (ft. Adam Young) - Armin Van Buuren  
**


	7. Moan

**Sorry it took forever. I hate school. Buuuuuuut now football season is over, so I should have more time to write. Maybe. But probably not.**

**Okay, well 13 Going On 30 is on sooo I'm gonna speed this up.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's. **

**I hope everything makes sense...**

**Enjoy.**

**Re-edited 6/8/11**

* * *

_Swoon, this is the same old blood rush with a new touch..._  
_...And we all wet our lips to prepare for the kiss,_  
_But it never came_  
- Moan - Cute Is What We Aim For

* * *

The next day I woke up to a stream of light coming from the window. Rubbing my eyes groggily, I sat up and stared aimlessly at the sailboat bed.

I like the color green.

Ugh. And my head hurt.

I wish I was tan.

Looking to the other side of the room, I saw that Hermione's bed was made.

But I _don't_ wish I was a green-y tan. That would be weird. Or orange. Because then I'd look like Snooki.

FOCUS, GINNY!

I wondered what was for breakfast.

Yawning enormously, I ran my fingers through my hair and climbed out of bed. I found a ponytail holder on the adjacent end table, so I threw my hair up into a messy ponytail and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

I was greeted with the heavenly scent of blueberry muffins and the hilarious image of Harry Potter in a floral apron holding the aforementioned muffins. I could not help myself but to laugh profusely at him.

"What are you wearing?" I asked him in between laughs.

He scowled at me. "Fine," he said. "If you're going to make fun of me, no muffins for you."

I grinned. Merlin. He looked adorable in that little apron. Under it, he wore a white t-shirt with red and gold cotton pajama pants. His hair looked like a rat's nest (do rats even _make_ nests?), but it was still cute. His green eyes were shining and his smile was joyful and his happiness was making me happy, too. It also helped that those muffins smelled almost as good as Mum's.

"Those muffins smell almost as good as Mum's," I said, inhaling as I walked to plop myself down at the table.

"Really?" Harry asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded and watched him as he eased the muffins out of the pan and onto a plate. Then he carried the plate to the table, set it down, and sat in the chair next to mine.

"Have you seen Ron or Hermione?" I asked, grabbing a muffin but quickly setting it down again after it burned my fingers.

I sucked my fingers in an attempt to cool them off as Harry thought over my question. "Come to think of it, no, I haven't." Harry scratched his head. "He sleeps in a different room than me though, so he may still be asleep."

I blew on my muffin before I took my next bite. "Weird. Hermione's bed was made when I woke up, and I hardly saw either of them last night."

Harry shrugged. There was an awkward silence while we ate our muffins. I thought about last night: about "the Cave," as Harry called it, and I thought about the stars, and my epiphany about Harry, and my talk with Harry, and then I just started about thinking of Harry in general.

Stop. Eat muffin. Enjoy. Think of Harry not. Tsdglhujasg (that was my attempt at not thinking… it's hard to put that into words, okay?).

"So," I said. I attacked the last bit of the muffin and then grabbed another one like the fatty I am.

"So," replied Harry.

Crap, what do I say now? Think, Ginny, think!

"What's on the agenda for today?"

"The usual," answered Harry. "Boat ride, tubing, skiing, and maybe some cliff-diving. After lunch we'll play some Quidditch."

"Cool."

"Yup."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah."

"Moo."

"Oink."

"Woof."

"Meow."

"Bang."

Harry looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "What kind of animal makes a banging sound?" he asked.

"A Blast-Ended Skrewt."

We looked at each other with completely straight facial expressions before we both burst out laughing. I liked making Harry laugh. He needed to laugh more often.

I loved the sound of his laugh.

We sobered for maybe half a second before we started laughing again.

"What'd I miss?" Ron said quizzically. Still laughing, Harry and I glanced at the entrance of the kitchen to my brother, where he stood watching us in his boxers.

"Cute boxers, Ron," I said. At this, Harry snorted and began laughing even harder. My brother had decided to don red boxers with Christmas trees all over them to wear to bed last night. It was July.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ho, ho, ho, Ginny."

I grinned. Beside me, Harry was banging his forehead on the table with mirth. Honestly. I wasn't that funny.

"Where have you been?" I asked my brother. "Helping Father Christmas deliver his gifts?"

Ron's ears turned red. "No," he snapped. "I had somewhere else to be."

"Like where? The North Pole?"

"Shut up," mumbled Ron. He stomped to the table, grabbed a muffin, and left, leaving Harry and I laughing in his wake.

"But really," I said to Harry, "where _was_ Ron?"

He sobered up a bit and shrugged. I rolled my eyes.

We sat in silence for a moment while we ate our muffins. After completing my fourth blueberry muffin and feeling like a fatty, I stood up and pushed my chair in.

"That was yummy," I told Harry. "Thanks."

He stood up, too. "You're welcome."

I attempted to look at him in the eye with a straight face, but I couldn't. I began laughing, and said, "I can't take you seriously with that apron on."

Harry crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. I laughed.

"Uh, I have to pee," I said abruptly, standing up. Harry stared at me for a moment, but did not say anything as I left the room. I could hear him laughing, though. Ahh, Harry's laugh... what a beautiful sound.

After my bladder was empty, I decided to go ahead and take a shower. There really was no point in showering if I was just about to go swimming in the lake, but the steam rolling off my shoulders made me feel better. It always did. There was so much to think about…

The most pressing issue for the moment: Did I really love Harry? Like, do I really and truly love him? Or am I so desperate for someone to love again that I've convinced myself that I loved him?

Merlin. I'm such a romantic. Maybe I should burn that stupid book about teenage vampires, it's giving me a false sense of hope that one day a sweet-talking vampire will come and try to read my mind…

But Harry _was_ sweet-talking. He was perfect. Everything he said to me, every move he made was perfect. Every breath he took and every step he took was, and is, perfect.

I didn't love him, but I did. Does that make sense?

My head throbbed. I rubbed my temples with my fingers as I moved to my next issue.

What was I going to do about Mark? I mean, I liked him, I guess. And I told him I'd love to see him again, and I couldn't just stop seeing him all of a sudden. But how could I see someone else when all I could think about was Harry?

And what the _hell_ was Harry thinking, asking out Meredith? She's a whore, obviously. Everyone else sees it, so why can't he? She could never love Harry like I did. Like I still do.

Did I ever even stop loving Harry? Those two years between the war and now seemed like I had just put my feelings on hold. They had never gone away.

That was why Summer and Amy took me to that club, because they knew I was still hopelessly in love with Harry. But that hadn't solved anything – it only made me more confused than I already was.

Things would be so much easier if Meredith and Mark would just hook up. Then all my problems would be solved. Well, kind of.

Was Charlie going to be okay? I hadn't even thought of him for the past few days. Of course the Healer said he was going to be fine, but he's surely going to suffer from some mental trauma that not even magic could heal.

And the final issue that was bouncing around in my mind: Should I really try out for the Holyhead Harpies? I mean, that was the whole reason I was still at Harry's lake house, anyway. I knew I was good at Quidditch, but was I really good enough for a professional team like that? I would be going up against all those hardcore teams like the Falmouth Falcons and the Ballycastle Bats. The Harpies were an all-female team, and I would be playing against some pretty frightening men on other teams. Was I ready for something like that?

Also, I had to consider all the additional media that would be following me around. I already had quite a bit of fans (and lack thereof) because of the War and my old rendezvous with the Savior Of The World. And all those practices… I wouldn't have time for a social life. No more clubs, no more dates, no more chocolate. I would have to get as in-shape as possible, and I knew all I would be allowed to focus on would be Quidditch – which was good, in a way. I guess.

Sighing, I quickly rubbed shampoo and conditioner in my hair before climbing out of the shower. I grabbed my wand and performed a Leg Hair Removal spell, and charmed my hair dry. I loved being a witch.

I walked into the bedroom I was staying in and headed to my suitcase. There was no sign of Hermione, but I locked the door with my wand anyway. I pulled out the bathing suit I was planning to wear: A navy bikini with white ruffles on the edges.

I look good in navy, that's why I wear it so much, DON'T JUDGE ME! There's only so much someone with red hair can wear. For instance, if I wore a black bikini, it would make me look super pale. Like, paler than pale. I'm talking Nearly-Headless Nick pale.

Over the bathing suit, I threw on a cover-up and slipped on my flip-flops. I Summoned a towel from the bathroom, pushed my sunglasses onto the top of my head, and I was ready to go.

I unlocked the door and opened it before I stopped short. Hermione stood there with a somewhat flabbergasted expression: She obviously hadn't been expecting to see me.

"Hi," I said suspiciously.

Hermione gave me a small smile. "Hey…"

AWKWARD. Not for long.

I grabbed Hermione by the wrist, tugged her to her starry bed, and pushed her down.

"Sit," I commanded.

Hermione nodded obediently as flicked my wand and the door shut with a click, indicating it was locked. Then I cast a Muffilato charm to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Spill."

Hermione looked down and away and mumbled incoherently.

"What was that?" I asked, cupping my hand around my ear dramatically.

"Nothing…"

"Where have you been all night?"

"Nowhere…"

I harrumphed. "Better yet, where has _Ron_ been all night? Hmmm?"

Hermione's cheeks turned red and I let out a triumphant cry. I plopped down onto the bed beside my best friend and demanded her to tell me everything.

"Well," she began, playing with her hands. "It began after the boat ride. We both got off, drank some punch together, and told some jokes. He had me laughing until I could barely breathe. He – he asked me to dance. And I said okay."

Hermione smiled, her eyes glassy. I felt my lips curl up at the corners, and grabbed Hermione's hand. She met my eyes and squeezed my hand, appreciating the gesture. I motioned for her to continue.

"The song started out fast, and then it was slow. He grabbed my waist and I hooked my arms around his neck… and it was perfect. We got tired soon after and he led me to the wooded area. He kissed me, and I kissed back."

I grimaced at the thought of my best friend kissing my brother. Gross, bad picture BAD PICTURE!

Hermione continued, not noticing my shudder of horror at the image that had just popped into my mind.

"We talked for a long time. We reflected on memories, and made new ones. He held me and kissed me, and we looked at the stars. By the time we headed back to the house, the party was over, and it was nearly four in the morning. We had nothing else to do, so we –" She stopped abruptly and he cheeks pooled with red. I prodded her to continue and she shook her head.

"Hermione," I complained. "Tell me!"

She pursed her lips and shook her hair, her brown curls bouncing around her face.

"Come on…" I poked her in the side, and she flinched away, trying not to smile. "You know you want to tell me…" I poked her again, this time wiggling my fingers around so I tickled her. I knew her so well I knew _exactly_ where her tickle spots were.

"Stop, _Stop!_" Hermione shrieked, laughing hysterically. "I'll tell you, _I'll tell you!_"

I smiled in satisfaction. Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself, and looked me square in the eye as she finished her story.

"He kissed me again, and it was slow and sweet and perfect. Then we decided to –" she swallowed, "–we decided to go skinny dipping."

I gasped. "NO WAY."

Skinny dipping wasn't an awful crime, but coming from Hermione this was an enormous plot twist.

"Did you have sex with him?" I asked in a whisper.

"No!" said Hermione. "No, of course not. I'm not ready for that yet."

"Yet?" I reiterated. "So you mean you want to?"

"I mean, I guess…"

I squealed and Hermione grinned.

"So you like my brother?" I said excitedly.

"Well, kind of…"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if 'like' would be the term to describe it. It's more of an obsession, really."

"I know how you feel," I said, rolling my eyes. "So do you love him?"

Hermione gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand really hard. It hurt. "I think so."

I looked at her for a split second before I screamed and gave her a bone-crushing hug.

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO ADMIT THAT!" I yelled at her.

Hermione laughed in response and I let her go.

"Ahh, I'm so excited," I said, taking a deep breath. "This is great."

"It feels great," said Hermione. "I've been bottling up these feeling for over two years now, and it feels amazing to finally let them out, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I said, looking away. I felt my happy smile slip off my face immediately. "I know." But I was lying. I loved Harry, but there was no way to feel good about it. It was a dead end. I couldn't tell anyone, not Hermione, not Summer, not Amy. He didn't love me back, and I was stuck. Stuck, alone, pathetic, impractical, remembering every single rush of adrenaline I got when Harry touched me and how my heart would skip a beat when he talked to me. "I know exactly what you mean."

After talking a while longer, Hermione and I met the boys at the dock. Both of them had donned Muggle swim trunks and sunglasses, and they seemed to eye us appreciatively when we took off our cover-ups. We swam in the lake for a while, jumping off the roof of Harry's dock and pushing each other into the water. The weather was perfect – and so was Harry's body. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of his yummy 74-pack abs.

…Just kidding, he didn't really have a 74-pack. That'd be gross. It was more like a 6-pack.

But he was still hot, okay? That was my point.

Later, we all clambered onto the boat again and Harry took us for a spin. I loved the boat, everything about it. Harry drove us around for a while before he came to a stop in front of a huge cliff with graffiti all over it.

"What are we doing here?" Ron asked.

"Jumping," answered Harry simply, turning off the boat engine so we were just floating on the water.

"How come I've never been here before?"

"The water has been too low, and it could have been dangerous." Harry took out his wand and looked around. Suddenly I felt the boat freeze, as though the water below had stopped moving.

"What did you just do?" asked Hermione, glancing at Harry quizzically.

"Land-lock Charm. That way, I can jump off the cliff too without worrying about the boat." With a smirk, Harry climbed over the side of the boat and dove into the water. He emerged a few seconds later and shook his wet hair out of his eyes. I felt like I was about to melt into a lovesick puddle right then and there.

"Are you coming?" Harry asked us as he began to backstroke toward the rocks.

Ron's face looked paler than usual as he eyed the cliff.

"How do we get up there?" he asked.

"There's a path once you get onto the rocks."

"You're a sissy," I told my brother. I took off my sunglasses, threw them on the seat, and jumped off the boat.

"That's not safe," I heard Ron say to Hermione as I resurfaced. I turned to them to listen to their conversation.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, loads of people have done it before, I'm sure you'll be fine. Don't be scared –"

"I'm not _scared_," snorted Ron.

"Really?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Because you look as though you'd rather face Voldemort than jump of the cliff."

"What? No, I –"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She tossed her sunglasses beside mine and then jumped overboard. Ron stared at her splash in the water with a disbelieving expression.

Seconds later, Hermione popped up beside Harry. "Let's go," she said. "Don't wait for Ron."

Harry, Hermione, and I began swimming for the rocks just as Ron called out, "Wait!"

We heard a splash and suddenly Ron was beside us.

"Nice of you to show up," I told him with a smirk.

"Shut up," Ron grumbled, splashing me in the face.

"Let's go!" said Harry, and we all followed him to the rocks. He climbed up first, then Ron, who had some troubles and kept slipping. I laughed at him… before it was my turn.

Algae was growing on the rocks, making it close to impossible to get a good grip on the rock. It was too smooth and water-worn to find a good place to put my feet, and I kept sliding around in the water. I let out a grunt of frustration, my eyes narrowing at the slippery rocks.

"Need help?"

A hand was thrust into my line of vision, palm up. I looked up to see Harry's mouth curled into a lopsided smile, his eyes sparkling. My heart skipped a beat before I grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull me up.

"Thanks," I said, somewhat breathlessly.

"Anytime."

Ron was helping Hermione up, and the next moment all of us were on the rocky platform and heading up a wooded trail. Since I was only wearing a bikini and no shoes, the earth scraped across my exposed skin irritatingly.

We emerged on a rock jutting out over the sparkling water.

"Don't look down," Harry said, and then he backed up a few steps and ran off the cliff with a yell of adrenaline.

I peeked over the cliff when I heard his splash echoing around the rocks, just to make sure he was okay. When he didn't pop up after a couple of seconds I began to get worried, but then he surfaced near the boat. Once I knew he was okay, I allowed myself to look at the jump – I nearly balked.

I backed up and put my hands on my hips.

"I'm not doing this, Harry," I said, loudly so he could hear me.

"Come on, Ginny!" Harry said encouragingly. "You're _definitely _going to regret it if you don't jump."

"I'm _definitely _going to kill myself."

Though he was nearly a tiny spec from up here, I could still see Harry roll his eyes. Ron and Hermione were bickering behind me, but I ignored them as Harry gave me advice.

"Keep your body tight. Don't let your arms flail out or anything, because it will hurt. Stay as small as possible, and plug your nose. You'll do great, I promise."

"I don't know…"

"It helps if I count," said Harry. "On the count of three. One…"

I took a deep breath and told myself not to look down.

"Two…"

I could do this. I had battled Death Eaters and completed numerous courageous tasks, so why couldn't I bring myself to jump off a freaking cliff?

"Three!"

Peer pressure took the best of me, and I felt my feet rush to the edge of the cliff. One second, there was rock beneath me, and the next second there wasn't. I was flying, and my stomach felt like it was in my throat, and the wind rushing through my ears pushed my hair all around my face so it looked like everything was on fire. I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my nose, squeezing all my limbs together just as Harry told me.

Why was I still falling? Where was the water? Just as I thought this, my feet made contact with a slick solid, and then I was underwater, and I couldn't breathe, and I didn't know which way was up. I thrashed my way to the surface and flung my hair out of my face as I gasped for breath.

"HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME, LET'S DO IT AGAIN!" I bellowed in the direction I thought Harry was in. I rubbed my eyes to remove the water and opened them to find Harry mere inches away from me, rubbing his ear.

"Oh," I said sheepishly. "Sorry."

Harry just laughed. We turned our attention to Ron and Hermione at the top of the cliff, arguing. It appeared as though Hermione was trying to jump, but Ron wasn't letting her. They argued for a while longer before Ron gave Hermione a meek nod, and she took his hand.

"Are they jumping off _together_?" Harry asked in disbelief.

I snorted. Of course my brother couldn't jump off by himself.

"Need us to count for you?" Harry called to them. Hermione gave him a thumbs up and Harry yelled, "On the count of three! One, two, three!"

Hermione jumped first, and Ron was forced to follow because of his hand in hers. He screamed like a young girl and flailed about, while Hermione stayed still and small. She hit the water first with a little splash, and Ron came crashing down next, his legs apart and his arms up.

Harry and I burst into laughter.

"That had to hurt," chuckled Harry.

Hermione came up first, calmly pushing her hair out of her eyes. "That was interesting," she said.

"OW, IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S PURPLE FOOTIE PAJAMAS THAT HURT LIKE A MOTHER!" Ron roared, gasping for air.

"Your fault," said Hermione lightly.

Harry and I just laughed harder at Ron's expression.

"Oi!" Ron snapped at us. He swam closer to Harry, Hermione, and I until he was in our little pod. "Stop your laughing! Is something humorous?"

By that point, Harry and I were nearly dying from laughing so hard.

My brother's ears were red. "Shut up. Let's just go again," he said, leading the way to the rocks for a second round.

Several jumps later, we climbed onto the boat again and Harry took us to a bridge that passed over the lake. Muggle cars were zooming past, but we disregarded them as we jumped into the water from the side of the bridge.

After that, we went tubing and water-skiing while Harry talked to us about the history of the lake or something. I don't remember. I wasn't listening, instead watching the way his lips moved over the words and the way his eyes lit up when he shared an interesting fact.

When we returned to the house, the four of us were exhausted and starved. It was only midday, but we had gotten an early start and burned off all the energy that Harry's muffins had provided. So, it was with a tremendous effort that I allowed Harry to drag me from the couch and go get my broomstick.

I ate my turkey sandwich quickly and heavily got to my feet. Harry yelled at me to hurry up and I flicked him off.

He wasn't very happy with me for a few moments after that and then refused to look or talk to me, but then he got over himself and continued to yell at me to hurry.

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying!" I snapped at him, walking into the bedroom. I shut the door, changed out of my bathing suit and into athletic clothes, and charmed my wet hair dry. I grabbed my broom, slipped on my tennis shoes, and met Harry where he was waiting by the back door.

"Are you coming to practice with us, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron, who was curled up on the couch with his head in Hermione's lap, merely grunted in response: Harry and I decided to take that as a "no."

Harry led me deep into the adjacent forest, and we walked until we entered a huge clearing with tall trees that had been magically carved to create hoops.

To start off the practice, Harry and I made a few loops around the makeshift pitch. My broom was a lot crappier than Harry's, so he was naturally faster than I was, but I was able to keep up pretty well. I could tell Harry was impressed.

Yes. Impressed. With Me. Impressed With Me. Harry Freakin' Potter was Impressed With Me. SCORE ONE FOR GINEVRA, YO.

Ahem. Right.

Next, Harry and I tossed the Quaffle around. That was way too easy, so he moved to play Keeper while I played Chaser against him. But Harry was an awful Keeper, so we changed tactics again.

In this exercise, Harry had the Quaffle and I was trying to get it from him.

"I'm gonna get you!" I mocked to Harry, whose broom was just out of my reach. I urged my broom to go faster.

Harry's musical laugh reached my ears and I smiled. "You wish!" he yelled, and with a burst of Firebolt Energy, Harry shot forward, the Quaffle tucked under his arm.

Feeling the pathetic need to impress him again, I egged my broom on and before I knew it I was right behind Harry. Sticking my tongue out between my teeth, I grabbed the back of Harry's broom and pulled him backward, so he was flying right beside me. Then I used that same hand to push the Quaffle out of Harry's grip so it began to fall toward the earth. I swooped down and caught it easily, tucking it under my left arm as I began to zoom toward the end of the pitch.

Harry halted in midair and began to shout at me. "Hey, that's not fair! Come back here, cheater!"

I glanced behind my shoulder to see him rocket toward me, coming behind me and grabbing me around my waist. I squealed in shock as my broom kept flying forward until it hit the tree-goalposts and fell to the ground. Harry set me down on his broom so that he was sitting behind me, one hand on my hip and the other steering. I felt his speed decrease, and I turned my head to look at him quizzically.

Bad idea. He was so close… I longed to touch him, but I couldn't. My heart twisted painfully. I decided that staring resolutely at his chin and folding my arms would prevent me from doing anything stupid, like snogging the life out of him.

I couldn't take that position anymore, so I moved my hands to that they were resting on the handle of the broom. Licking my lips, I raised my eyes to meet his, taking in a gulp of air. His eyes were dark, and he gazed at me with an intense expression, that expression that I feel like I've seen before, but I could never place it.

"Cheater," he said softly, his crooked smile making my heart beat so erratically I was sure he could hear it.

His warm breath fanned across my face as the soft breeze pushed my red curls around my face. Harry's eyes never left mine, and I was still hyper-aware of his hand on my hip. I thought I felt a cool breeze on my left arm, but all my senses were shut down and all I was conscious of was Harry. His smell, his feel, his sounds, his movements. Everything was about him. Always.

His gaze suddenly shifted down to my lips. I thought I heard his breath catch, but I definitely imagined it. Both of us self-consciously leaned in, wetting our lips to prepare for the kiss that was sure to come.

He was centimeters away, but I was terrified to shut my eyes, terrified to miss anything.

He was so close… so close. Then his eyes shut and he took a deep breath through his mouth and straightened up.

I blinked quickly and straightened as well, my neck hurting from the awkward angle which I was occupying to turn my head. Harry's broom wasn't even floating anymore, we were just hovering.

Harry's hand left my hip, and the spot where it had been felt cold. With his other hand, Harry lifted up the Quaffle with a smirk.

"You know what they say about cheaters," he said. "They always get what's coming for them."

His breath was intoxicating, I couldn't think straight, and I sucked in the thick summer air to keep myself from falling off the broom. "Um," I said, nearly incoherent. "Put me down."

Harry studied my face for a second before gliding down to the ground, touching down on the grass with a small jolt. I clambered off as quickly as I could and tried not to stumble to my broom. I picked it up and turned to Harry, staring fixedly at his shoes.

"Er, thanks for the practice," I said. Then I turned on my heel and walked calmly with my head held high to the edge of the clearing. Once I knew I was out of Harry's eyeshot, I broke off into a run, sprinting blindly in the direction of the house, intent on getting back to the house as soon as possible and locking myself in the bedroom.

Why? Why did Harry have such an effect on me? Why are my eyes stinging with tears? I never cry. Ever. Why did I let Harry control me like this? He had everything that I had to my name. My friends, my family, my emotions, my mind, my heart.

Why couldn't he just accept that?

My lungs filled up with air, and the pressure behind my eyes began to grow painful. I knew I wouldn't make it to the house, so I slowed to a walk, stopped, and leaned against a tree. The first drop of salt water leaked from the corner of my eye, and my lungs contracted to suck in as much breath as possible. Gasping, confused and hopeless, I slid down the tree, buried my head between my knees, and cried.

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**A/N: Yep. Check out my new story, _Absolutely Nothing_, that'd be great.**

**And WHO WATCHED THE MOST RECENT EPISODE OF GLEE, "NEVER BEEN KISSED"? AHHHHHHHHHHH  
**

**Songs: The Ice Is Getting Thinner - Death Cab For Cutie; If You Can't Live Without Me, Why Aren't You Dead Yet? - Mayday Parade; They - Jem; YourBiggestFan - NeverShoutNever!**

**REVIEW OR DIE... and im superrrrr excited for HP7 coming out in 5 DAYS YO!**


	8. Where The Wild Things Are

I'm sick of bolding my author's notes... it's really annoying. So I'm gonna keep it normal. OKAY

This isn't beta'd either... (gosh, it's hard to say this and Leah I love you to death but there's SO many errors I make...) but I am looking for a new beta. I'm particularly bad at changing tenses, so if that's a strong point for you then that's great. Most of my mistakes are very careless, though, like forgetting random letters or periods... so if you're interested PM me and let me know!

Anyway, Merry Christmas yall!

_

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You're the monster underneath_  
_Lost of all faith_  
_Feeding off my dreams_  
_Where I thought I was safe_  
_So shut your mouth_  
_And bite your tongue_  
-Where the Wild Things Are - Anarbor

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After I had finished bawling my sodding eyes out, I Apparated myself directly into the bedroom to avoid everyone and went straight to bed. I snuggled in and tried to think of something else _besides_ Harry, but it didn't work. Harry haunted my mind all the time (the prat) and in order to distract myself I thought about different ways to torture him as I fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, all of us were in crappy moods. I woke up to the sound of Hermione yelling her head off at Ron and Harry shouting at them in an attempt to stop the fight. I had trudged out of the bedroom in my pajamas and messy hair yelling at everyone to shut up. We were all sunburned and sore from our previous action-packed day, and cranky from lack of sleep.

That led me to where I was now, sitting between Ron and Hermione at the table eating breakfast. Harry was sitting across from me. I was having a difficult time trying to decide if I wanted to snog him or hex him. Or maybe try out one of the torture methods I had been thinking about last night as I went to sleep.

Hmmm.

Harry was shoveling eggs into his mouth, eating as though there was no tomorrow. His hair was sticking up at awkward angles and he had dark circles under his eyes. I hoped he got less sleep than I did, he deserved it. KARMA, HARRY, KARMA!

Anyway.

Ron was falling asleep in his bowl of cereal and Hermione and I took turns prodding him with our forks. I "accidentally" stabbed a little too hard.

"BLOODY HELL!" he yelped, his face flying upward and flinging milk all over the table. "That hurt!"

Hermione and I put our forks in our laps and tried to look innocent. Ron glared at us, picked up his spoon and continued eating his breakfast. Gross, his face was in that.

"I think I'm bleeding," Ron muttered after a moment, inspecting his arm. I stifled my laugh in my napkin.

After breakfast, we lounged around Harry's den and watched the television. It was some Muggle show about a fat man and a cheeseburger. I wanted to puke just watching the bloke shove the food into his mouth and made a mental note never to eat Muggle fast food.

The show was almost over when Harry commanded me to get my broom and go practice. I told him to sod off. He told me I wouldn't make the team.

"What does not practicing have to do with not making the team?" I asked stupidly.

Harry merely gaped at me. Blushing, I muttered a "just kidding" and slouched off to get my broom. When I returned to the living room, I found Harry waiting back the back door again. Together, we silently made our way to Harry's makeshift Quidditch pitch. I swore the pitch was farther away today than it was yesterday.

Why wasn't he talking to me? Was he mad? What had I done? Why did he have to smell so good?

And why did I keep asking questions that wouldn't get answered?

COME ON, CONSCIENCE, ANSWER ME.

Ungh.

"So," said Harry awkwardly.

HE SPEAKS. Finally.

"So," I replied. I scratched my head.

"When are try-outs?"

"For the Harpies? I dunno." I mentally slapped myself. I'm an idiot.

Just kidding. I was way too awesome to be an idiot.

But seriously. How could I not know when try-outs were?

"They're next month sometime," I said, trying to cover up my stupid statement.

"Oh. Cool." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and I studied his profile while we walked. He was slouching, his shoulders hunched as though keeping away something unwelcome. His eyes were droopy and the bags under his eyes were deep and sickly-looking.

"Um, I don't mean to intrude or anything," I said, "but are you alright?"

"Who, me?" asked Harry, meeting my eyes. His normally sparkling green eyes were missing their shine. It made me sad. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't get any sleep last night."

I almost snorted before I thought better of it. This was no time to laugh. "Me neither."

I had a sick sense of humor.

We walked in silence for the rest of the way, and I was relieved when we reached the pitch. I climbed onto my broom and Harry did the same, and we were off. He was drilling me, treating this practice like he treated his old Quidditch team. Which was fine, I guess.

Yesterday he hadn't treated me like he treated his old team, he treated me like a friend.

Had yesterday affected him as much as it affected me?

After our practice (which lasted about six hours), Harry and I were sweating profusely. Having warmed up to each other again during our practice, we ran down to the dock and jumped into the lake, fully clothed.

"Nice shirt," Harry said, staring at my chest. I looked down.

Crap. Crap crap crappity crap. I would be wearing I white shirt so my lacy green bra could be seen.

GREAT CHOICE, GINNY.

I folded my arms across my chest and decided to blow this over like I would with someone I wasn't obsessed with. "You like it," I said cheekily.

"I never said I didn't," Harry replied.

The witty comeback I had in my head disappeared: That most certainly was not the answer I was expecting. Harry smirked and I groaned. I hated that smirk. That adorable, arrogant smirk.

"I hope your girlfriend dies," I said as an insult, smiling so he thought I was joking – but I wasn't.

"I could say the same for you."

I rolled my eyes and splashed him in the face. As he rubbed water out of his eyes, I put both hands on the dock and began to hoist myself out of the water, completely disregarding the nearby ladder.

"Hey!" Harry shouted at me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me back into the water. I shrieked and got a mouthful of fresh water that probably contained 3000 gallons of pee in it. Nasty.

I resurfaced, spluttering, and Harry was laughing his freaking arse off. I narrowed my eyes and dunked him, holding his head underwater for a moment longer than necessary so he suffered. Muhahaha.

When I released his head, I expected Harry to pop right back up and laugh. Instead, he stayed in the water, unmoving.

Holy crap.

"Harry?" I said to the water. Nothing. Harry didn't move.

I poked his head. He didn't move.

Holy crap. Holycrapholycrapholycrap.

Had I killed Harry Potter? Why was he still underwater? Did I suffocate him? I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I SWEAR!

I was having a mini-freak out. I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, killed Harry Potter, the Savoir Of The World/Love Of My Life. Why wasn't I yelling for help?

"Harry?" I said to the water, panic leaking into my voice. I was about to yell for help when something grabbed my hand and I screamed.

"Gotcha!" Harry said, resurfacing and letting go of my hand. "You should have heard your voice. Ha, ha, that was funny."

He shook hair out of his eyes, completely unaware that I had just been afraid I had killed him. I gaped at Harry.

"What did – but you were just – I thought you had –" I spluttered, making ridiculous hand motions gesturing from him to the water. "YOU TWAT, HARRY POTTER."

He laughed. "That's what you get."

"What did I do?" I cried. I didn't really understand how his little prank made sense. How could he hold his breath that long? What had I done? All I did was splash him in the face, for Merlin's sake! Well, and force him underwater.

But still!

Harry merely raised a brow and hoisted himself out of the water. Why wasn't he answering my question?

"What just happened?" I asked, bemused. Harry's mood swings were confusing me. My brain hurt.

"Nevermind," said Harry. "I guess you're too thick to understand my humor."

"Excuse me?" I hoisted myself out of the water as well, grabbing my wand and magically drying my see-through clothes. "What's that supposed to mean? And how could you call that _humor_? I thought you had died!"

"Maybe you should run off and ask your boyfriend!"

"What the hell, Harry? I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Yes you do." Harry turned to me and folded his arms, his jaw set. "Ron told me."

"That's complete bollocks!" I said. "What is Ron talking about?"

"He told me last night. That bloke Mark you went out with when Charlie was bitten."

I almost laughed. How did Ron know that? "He's not my boyfriend!" Yet. "I went on one date with him!"

"Where'd you meet him?"

"At a club!" I threw my hands up, exasperated.

"A _club_? Ginny you should know better than to go out with someone you met at a club! Especially a Muggle one!"

"It wasn't my idea! I didn't even want to be there!"

"Oh? So who's idea was it?"

"Summer and Amy!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "And there's another thing! Why do you hang out with Summer Lewis and Amy Loins when all they do is get you into trouble?"

I laughed scathingly.

I felt my hands balling into fists. How did a stupid immature prank end up in a full-out yell-fest? And what right did Harry think he had to tell me what to do? I felt fury lapping at my insides and Harry's eyes were burning with frustration and I just wanted to jab him in the eyeball.

Everything was happening so fast. JUST SLOW DOWN FOR TWO BLEEDING SECONDS, LIFE.

I didn't even bother to try to calm myself down. I was on a roll. "I don't see why it matters!"

"How does it _not _matter?" Harry retorted.

"Why do you care?"

"I should be trying to protect you –"

"Protect me?" I laughed loudly. "I'm eighteen years old, Harry. I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but I don't think that –"

"Did Ron put you up to this?"

"Yes, but it's not just him! I feel the need to –"

"Stay out of my personal life, Harry! You can tell that to my good-for-nothing brother too if you want, I don't really –"

I cut off by Harry's lips on mine. The kiss was hard, angry, and lasted only a millisecond, but I just stood still in shock. What. The. Hell.

"Just shut up for a second!" Harry said crossly. "Stop cutting me off when I'm trying to explain!"

It was all I could do to nod meekly.

"Ron gave me a talk about protecting you, he told me I was doing a bad job of it. I agree with him. I hadn't talked to you in over a year and something could have happened to you in that time when we didn't keep contact. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if that had happened. And you went on a date with some bloke you met at a club – Ginny what were you thinking? He could have hurt you!"

I shook myself from my frozen reverie as heated anger swelled inside me. "Do you not trust my judgment? What about _your_ judgment? How the hell could you still be dating a bird like Meredith? You don't even _like_ her!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because you told me, you prat!"

"When?"

"After the party."

Harry stared at me and crossed his arms. "I was lying."

I was breathing heavily, my anger getting the best of me. "Or you're lying now."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was still wet, and his damp t-shirt was clinging to his chest. It was hard to be mad at him, but I was. I was furious, with him and my brother.

"Anyway," Harry said, continuing his protection speech, "after Ron talked to me about it, I realized what I had done. I didn't sleep very much last night because I was thinking about it."

"Yeah? Did you ever stop to think for one second that maybe _you_ had hurt me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Ginny, I never hurt you. I would never rape anyone or anything like that –"

"That's not what I meant."

Harry was so thick sometimes. I wished I could push him off the Empire State Building, maybe it would knock some sense into him.

Ha. Yeah, right.

I huffed furiously. "Did you ever think about how not talking to me for a year could have hurt me? How being all friendly with me again hurt me?"

"I was trying to _protect_ you –"

"That's what you said when you broke up with me all those years ago!" I accused. "Look where that got us!"

"You never let me explain –"

"You led me on!" I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"– Just like you're doing now!"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This was not the place, or the time. We had been joking around mere minutes ago. The lake and the setting sun seemed to be mocking our argument, innocence against culpability. I had a feeling that this argument was about more than protection – much, much more.

"Okay," I said sardonically. "Explain."

Harry ran his hand through his hair again. I think it was a nervous habit. He should get that checked out. "I didn't mean to lead you on. I didn't even realize I was doing it."

"Yeah, right," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I couldn't believe we were really having this conversation. I didn't want to stand here and discuss this reasonably. I wanted to shout at Harry, hex him and throw things at him. I wanted to drown him in the lake.

"And what exactly is your definition of me 'leading you on?' Because I'm pretty sure you do it to me, too!"

"Me?" I snorted. "What about that almost-kiss on the pitch yesterday? What about telling me I looked lovely after my date with Mark? What about trying out for Puddlemere just to show me up?"

Harry spluttered for a second, looking around wildly. "I don't know what you're –"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT SAYING YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, HARRY JAMES POTTER!" I shouted. I marched up to him and jabbed him in the chest with my finger. "I don't know if you think this is another big joke to you or what, but it's not funny!"

"It's not a joke!" Harry yelled back, wrapping his hand around my finger and pulling it away from him. "And Puddlemere has nothing to do with this!"

"Puddlemere has everything to do with this! If you hadn't been on the sodding front page, I wouldn't have had to think about you again! Mark and I would have been perfectly fine together if you didn't intervene!"

"If Mark isn't your boyfriend, and you're not together, how does he come into the picture? And I didn't intervene, what the hell are you saying?"

"Oi! What's all this yelling?" Ron said loudly, walking down the stairs to the dock with his arms in the air.

I rolled my eyes, noticing that Harry still hadn't let go of my finger. It seemed as though he didn't even notice he was holding it. As much as I didn't want to be, I was mad at him, and so as much as I didn't want to, I slid my finger out of his grasp. My hand felt tingly.

Ugh.

Harry pointed an accusatory finger at me and began explaining to Ron, who was looking like he regretted leaving the house. "Ginny's blaming me of _intervening_ –"

"Rubbish! You know exactly what I'm –"

"All I was trying to do was –"

"And you _had_ to go and rub it in my face, along with all that bleeding dirt on your chest –"

"I just needed some extra cash, it's not like I asked –"

"That doesn't matter!"

"Ginny, THINK ABOUT THE WORDS THAT COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!" Harry shouted over me. Ron was standing on the steps, gaping at us with his mouth wide open.

"_I_ should think about the words? _You_ should be watching what you say, if you hadn't been a fucking moron like you are _all the bloody time _we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Oh, so I'm a moron, all the time? Great insult, Gin –"

"That's what I'm talking about! You know that every word you're saying is just making me madder –"

"You're not even _trying_ to make sense, you're just listing things off because you like to argue!" Harry roared, his eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

His accusation caught me off guard and I stopped, the retort I had planned in my head disappearing. Instead, I stared at Harry with what I hoped was an unreadable expression, though inside I had so many emotions swirling around I wasn't sure what I was feeling. The awful thing was that Harry was right, and he and I both knew it.

"I know you too well," Harry said, ignoring Ron as he backed away from the dock slowly and ran back into the house. Prat.

Seriously though… I really had been yelling out statements that were completely beside the point. Puddlemere? Really? That didn't have to do with anything. The argument was about protection, not careers. I honestly didn't care that he was on Puddlemere's team, I was just upset that he hadn't told me about it. It was great that he had made the team, and it was all I could hope for to even make the Harpies' reserve. He was a great Quidditch player and I should be happy for him.

And yes, Harry had been leading me on, but he may not have known it. Harry seemed to do that a lot. Like one time, in my fourth year, Harry had talked to this Ravenclaw in my year, Reilly Harper. Just talked to her. But at that point in time, Harry liked Cho, so he was clearly not interested in Reilly, but I had overheard her saying something to her friends about Harry flirting with her. Harry did not flirt. He was merely that charming and dazzling and witty and perfect naturally.

So it could have been possible that Harry was just trying to be himself with me, but with my overly-active romantics-obsessive mind I had over-analyzed and assumed he was leading me on.

And as for the protection part of the argument, I saw where he was coming from. He was just trying to help, that's just how Harry was. It was, like, in his DNA or something. But I wasn't a damsel-in-distress. I could take care of myself. I hated when I was looked down on for being the youngest or the only girl or because my brother died or whatever. My personality rejected the empathy, I didn't need it. It made me angry, which may have explained why I was now so rattled – at the situation, at Harry, at Ron, and me.

Well great. Now I felt like absolute butthole.

I wished I had thought things through before I started yelling. I always do that. I end up regretting the things I say, and realize I sound immature and snobbish when I shout out arbitrary statements just for the heck of it.

Ugh. I had multiple personality disorder, I was sure of it. In the span of maybe five minutes, I went from being tired, to flirty, to playful, to angry, guilty, and to resigned.

I sighed loudly, and tried to choke out the words I had so much trouble saying. "I'm s-sorry."

Harry grinned. "That's okay. I forgot what we were fighting about anyway."

Of course he did. Simple, easy-going Harry. He didn't want to hurt a fly, yet he had to. He wanted things to be effortless and trouble-free, yet he was so complex.

"Protection," I answered stupidly.

"Oh," said Harry, messing up his hair again. He needed to stop that. "Right."

I smiled slightly. "Look, Harry, I know you're just trying to help out and be a good friend, to me and to Ron. Thanks for that. But I don't need assistance in _every _decision I make. If I did, you're probably run me through with a pitch fork because I'd be calling you every day asking you what shirt to wear or what type of cheese to buy."

Now would be the perfect time to walk away, but I didn't. I didn't want to. Why would I leave when I could soak up some quality post-anger alone time with the man I was secretly (or not-so-secretly) in love with?

Come on. I may be hot-headed but I'm not an idiot. I'm a genius actually. Remember?

Harry's shirt was still slightly damp. Now that I wasn't completely livid with every word he uttered, I felt free to stare at him subtly without feeling like a hypocrite. The shirt clung tightly to his stomach, outlining every delicious muscle and I just wanted to grab some cake, smack it on Harry's chest, and eat it off. But that'd be gross. So never mind.

When did the phrase "I could eat off of it" begin to apply to muscles instead of plates? Honestly. It just confused me.

"Er, just to clear up any confusion," I said, clearing my throat, "Mark is not my boyfriend."

Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, thanks." I couldn't tell if that was sarcastic or not. I hoped it wasn't. "We cleared that up already."

"Oh," I said. I looked down and examined my bare feet. "Okay, good."

"And, er, I didn't try out for Puddlemere just to show you up or make you jealous or whatever. Just to clear up any confusion, you know."

"Of course."

"I think you'll do great on the Harpies, Ginny," Harry said. I looked up and saw a sincere look in his eyes, which was a change since a few minutes ago he looked like he wanted to set me on fire because we were so mad at each other.

The green in his eyes were sparkling at me again, as opposed to their lackluster appearance this morning, which had been accompanied by the dark purple circles underneath. The purple was still there, but a lot less noticeable. I looked around and saw that the sun was almost completely gone, and stars were popping up in a deep blue-velvet sky. We had been outside for forever.

I felt my cheeks tinge red. "Thanks, Harry."

"You're a shoe-in, since all of their names start with 'G', just like yours."

"Thanks, I thought my name started with a 'Q'."

Harry rolled his eyes and glanced at the sky. "We should probably go back inside. I'm starved. I hope Hermione's cooked us something."

We began walking back up to the lake house side-by-side.

I snorted. "I think it's a feat she's kept Ron from drowning himself in the lake, actually."

Harry laughed. Seriously, how could I ever be mad at this kid? I wished I could take back all the stupid things I had said before.

While on the bridge that connected the dock to land, the two of us could barely fit comfortably and our shoulders kept hitting. Each time this happened, my heart would be sent into a sporadic frenzy so loud I swore Harry could hear it.

Harry sniffed, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a frown.

"What?" I asked curiously.

He sniffed again. "Do you smell that?"

I sniffed, too, and smelled something that did seem a bit off, around a lake. "It smells like something is burning?"

Harry nodded, sniffing frantically. He looked like a meerkat. It was almost funny.

"Maybe it's your neighbors having a bonfire?" I suggested, doubting my own words as I said them.

The smell got stronger with each step we took toward the house. Harry and I looked at each other and groaned.

It took me about two milliseconds to move my feet, but once I did I took off after Harry in the direction of the house. We burst in through the back door and took in the scene before us, our wands at the ready.

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A/N: Didn't particularly like this chapter. Lots of pointless yelling. I hope it made sense. If it did, review. If it didn't, review. Please and thank you!

I'm already starting on the next chapter. Ginny/Harry fics are harder to write than I thought. I hope I'm doing a good job?

My best friend got me a pink unicorn Pillow Pet for Christmas. I named it Pegasus Larry Jonah Hill, but we call him Peggy for short. Leave him a shout-out in your review? yeahyeahyeah.

Songs: Human - Darren Criss, Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy - Fall Out Boy, Under Control - Parachute, Dead On Arrival - Fall Out Boy

PM me about the Beta thing (iloveyousoverymuchleah) and review!


	9. A Mess It Grows

Atttt's roightttttt.  
I realized I'm gonna need to go back through this story and give it some minor edits, but I'll do that whenever I finish writing it. I've got most of the plot for this story finished, I think. Yay? I usually never have plots, I just kind go with it... I'm hungry.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

_

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_

_You're love drunk, you're blinded  
You've lost the ones who love you most_  
_This liar's on fire, melted like wax_  
_A mess it grows_  
-A Mess It Grows – He Is We

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"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Harry bellowed, barreling into the kitchen.

The fire alarm was wailing, and Ron was running back and forth from the sink to the oven with a cup, tossing cupfuls of water onto a blazing fire. All the granite countertops around the oven were on fire, the flames slowly spreading to the rest of the kitchen and near the power outlet. I knew nothing of Muggle elecktricity, but I knew that if it caught on fire we'd all be doomed.

My feet felt glued to the floor as I took in the scene in shock: was my brother _really_ this stupid?

"I WAS MAKING LASAGNA!" Ron yelled back, rushing back to the sink to refill his cup.

"And you sent the house on fire?" I hollered, the skepticism evident in my loud tone. "Where's Hermione?"

"I tied her up in the basement!" Ron answered.

I was starting to feel sweat build up on my face and around my hairline, but I was more preoccupied trying to figure out how this situation came about. Why was Hermione tied up? Why wasn't I rushing out of the kitchen to help her instead of ogling my brother's stupidity in the heat? And why hadn't Ron put the fire out yet? Was he a complete moron?

Harry was standing next to me with his mouth hanging wide open. "STOP THIS FIRE, RON!" he bellowed.

Ron hurried to splash his cup of water onto the fire. "I'm working on it, Harry!"

"ARE YOU A WIZARD OR WHAT?" Harry held up his wand and immediately water came shooting out the tip. He aimed it at the flames and they immediately began dying down.

Ron yelled something about not having his wand, and Harry yelled something back about how he should _always_ have his wand. I backed out of the stiflingly hot kitchen and into the basement to rescue Hermione.

I found Hermione sitting in a wooden chair, bound by ropes and gagged with a bandana. I saw two wands sitting about six yards away, and I then realized that Ron really didn't have his wand. But then why hadn't he come down to get it when he smelled smoke?

I rushed over to Hermione and yanked the bandana out of her mouth. "What happened?" I demanded, talking loudly in order to be heard over the shrieking fire alarm.

Hermione was laughing. I began to fear for her sanity, but then I realized that in a house full of insane people, Hermione would be the last I would fear for (Ron being the first, since he almost burned the house down).

"Are you alright?" I asked. I used my wand to untie the ropes, and Hermione hopped up and grabbed hers and Ron's wands.

She nodded and we began hurrying up the stairs to help out Harry with the fire.

"Ron tied me up because he said he was going to 'surprise me,'" she explained. "He put my wand on the other side of the room so I couldn't get to it, and he got distracted and put his there, too. When I heard the fire alarm go off, I knew Ron would need his wand, but he never came down to get it." Hermione rolled her eyes and added, "I assumed he didn't want me to know he set something on fire."

We entered the kitchen and Hermione tossed Ron his wand. He sent her a grateful smile and all four of us began showering water down on the remaining flames.

The only part of the kitchen that was still on fire was the oven. It kept smoking and emitting flames until Hermione had the sense to turn the power off using her wand. Ron had to blast the door off the oven, but we were able to quickly submerge the rest of the fire. I shot a spell at the fire alarm to make it shut up, grumbling while I did so. My head had already been pounding from my argument and confusion with Harry, but now it was practically splitting in half. Thanks a lot, fire alarm.

As the four of us stood in the kitchen observing the damage, Hermione pondered over the fact that the sprinklers had not gone off.

"I dunno," Harry said. "But I _do_ know that I'll have to replace my countertops, because I don't know any spell that can repair the fire damage, do you?"

"_Reparo_?" Ron suggested, pointing his wand at the countertops and muttering the spell. Nothing happened.

"What were you trying to do?" I asked my brother. I noticed he had a soot mark on his left cheek.

His ears turned pink and he said something incoherent as he scraped his feet across the floor. I rolled my eyes and asked him again.

"I was making lasagna," Ron muttered.

"But you don't like lasagna," Harry pointed out.

Ron's ears turned completely red as he responded, "I wasn't making it for me."

I saw Hermione's eyes start to water up. I assumed the smoke was getting to her.

"Who were you making it for?"

"Hermione," Ron mumbled. "I was trying to surprise her since I knew she loved lasagna, but you know I'm hopeless at cooking…"

"And your wand was in the basement," I finished for him, "so you couldn't fix the fire."

Ron nodded and Harry pursed his lips.

"Look, mate, I see what you were trying to do," Harry said, looking around at his burned kitchen, "but next time, could you _please_ not try to burn my house down? Ginny and I could smell it all the way from the dock."

"I thought there was a bonfire," I supplied.

Harry shot me a look that clearly told me I wasn't helping, but I only flashed him an enormous smile, making myself the picture of innocence.

But I was always innocent, what was I saying?

Ha. Innocent. Me.

Good joke.

"I guess cooking isn't the right hobby for me, then," Ron said with a laugh.

"Obviously not," Harry grinned. If he was genuinely upset about his counters and oven, he didn't show it.

"Sorry about your kitchen, mate."

"Nah, it's fine." Harry waved a hand through the air nonchalantly. "Meredith'll have my head, though."

Meredith again. I snorted resentfully and crossed my arms across my chest, but Harry ignored me and suggested we order pizza.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but as he did so there was a loud screeching sound and the sprinklers began spraying water all over us. All of us were yelling in surprise, and Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and tugged her to safety in the pantry. Harry grabbed me by the arm and rushed me out of the kitchen so we were standing together in the hallway, soaking wet.

I began laughing, and Harry stared at me for a moment before he joined me.

"This has been a very interesting day," he commented through his laughter.

I nodded my agreement. "Always end the trip with a bang," I said.

"Hey," Harry said, "that's true. It's your last night here."

"Yeah." I began ringing out my hair before I had the sense to charm it dry. The curls tumbled down my back and I tossed them up into a ponytail. "Thanks for letting me come, Harry. I've had a good time."

"Good." Harry smiled and I concentrated all my energy on not melting into a lovesick puddle. "It's a shame you couldn't meet Meredith. I'm sure you would have gotten along with her."

Ha. Good one, Potter. "Maybe some other time," I said through gritted teeth.

"And sorry about, you know, our fight earlier. I want you to have nothing but good memories of the lake."

I laughed. "Trust me, Harry, Ron's face on top of that rock was a good enough memory to last me a century."

Harry chuckled and I remembered something I was going to ask him. "Hey, what's Sir Cadogan doing in your 'Cave?' I know we talked about it a little bit, but you never said what that room was."

Harry laughed and his cheeks were tinged pink. "It's got a bunch of doors up there. A few of them are balconies, and a few are storage rooms, but there are a few rooms that I don't want anything happening to."

"Are those rooms locked?"

Harry nodded. "_Alohamora_ won't work, if you ever tried breaking into one."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said dryly. "Why's it so important? Do you have a shrine of Meredith up there or something?"

Harry sent me an exasperated look. "No. It's just got some things in there that are very important to me that I want to keep safe."

"And you think Sir Cadogan will do the job?"

"He'll do as good as anything. Besides, he owes me."

I raised one eyebrow skillfully, but didn't bother asking. "How did you get the portrait out of Hogwarts?"

Harry blushed slightly and ruffled the back of his hair. He was so adorable. "I, uh, nicked it after the War."

"Harry Potter!" I gasped in mock outrage. I ignored my bewilderment at the fact that Harry mentioned the War to me, as that was the first time he had ever done so. "Who knew the savior of the world was a thief?"

Harry shoved me lightly on the arm. "Shut up," he grumbled.

I laughed and Harry stared at me. I felt kind of self-conscious. Was there something in my teeth? Did I have a booger hanging out of my nose?

I sniffed. Nope, no boogers.

I found myself caught up in Harry's eyes. His hair was wet (from both the lake and the sprinklers) and stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were a liquid-y green that made me knees knock together. I silently prayed Harry couldn't hear them.

He just kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

And I loved him.

But I swear I'll keep denying it.

Since I actually wanted to get some sleep tonight, I broke the eye contact and stepped back, coughing slightly. Harry blinked a little bit.

"I'm hungry," I said, walking back into the kitchen. "Let's get some food."

I knew I had ruined a perfectly good moment, but I knew it had been the right thing to do. I was already so confused and my head was pounding and it was all I could have done not to have shagged Harry right there, in his hallway.

I was kind of glad this was my last night.

The next morning, we all woke up early so we could get out on the lake before we left. I packed up all my clothes, realizing as I did so that I had over packed just a little bit, and wandered into the living room for some leftover pizza. We couldn't eat in the kitchen anymore since everything was burned or smelled strongly of smoke, so we just moved all the food into the living room and cast charms on it to keep it cool.

I put some cold pizza onto my plate and sat on the couch next to Hermione. Last night in our bedroom, Hermione and I discussed her relationship with my brother. She told me that no matter how stupid Ron was for attempting to cook, she was still touched by his effort and told me it was the thought that counted. I felt bad that she was being honest with me about Ron and I wasn't being honest with her about my predicament with Harry, but there were some things Harry's best friend didn't need to know. I don't even think she knew we had an enormous fight yesterday, unless Ron told her and she didn't say anything.

"Morning," I said tiredly.

"Good morning, Ginny," Hermione said cheerily. Ugh. Of course she was a morning person.

In my opinion, this was much too early to be awake. Why couldn't we sleep _at least _past nine and then leave a little later? I didn't understand why we needed to get away so quickly, or why we couldn't cut our lake time just a little bit shorter.

I bit into my cold pizza vigorously, thinking about how much fun Hermione, Harry, Ron, and I had last night together. We played Exploding Snap and then, to everyone's surprise, someone (I found out later it had been Hermione) Confounded the pizza delivery man to flirt shamelessly with me and Harry and Ron were practically bristling with jealousy. I didn't want to have to overanalyze anything, so I told myself they were simply pulling the "protect Ginny" act and left it at that.

Harry interrupted my thoughts. "Good morning," he yawned, plopping down in the recliner and shoving pizza into his mouth, not even bothering to get himself a plate.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, "a letter came for you today. I put it on the bookshelf."

Harry set his pizza down on the coffee table and walked over to the shelf, picking the letter up and examining it. "It's from Meredith!" he said.

Hermione and I exchanged glances.

"It says that she has to stay in Italy for a few more days, and that she regrets not being able to be with me and my friends," Harry truncated. Hermione hacked out a cough. "She says Italy is beautiful and her company is very interesting."

"I'm sure it is," Hermione mumbled, taking a large bite of pizza.

What was that supposed to mean? I thought back to Hermione and Ron's conversation on the boat at the party a few days ago.

_"…I could have sworn I saw her with Matthew Caldwell earlier," Ron was saying._

_"Do you think we should tell him?" Hermione asked._

_Ron shook his head. "Nah," he said. "He trusts her so much – and we're not even sure. She and Matthew could be just friends."_

_Hermione looked at him uncertainly. "A girl like her couldn't be 'just friends' with anyone."_

_"Who are you talking about?" I interjected._

_"No one!" Ron said quickly. "Don't worry about it." Then he immediately turned to talk to Neville._

_"You'll find out soon enough," Hermione said to me. Then she turned away and muttered to herself, "Honestly, I don't know __what__ he sees in her…"_

I now realized that they had been talking about Meredith. Were they trying to say that Meredith could have been cheating on Harry? It wouldn't be surprising if she did. It's not something that one would expect to happen to Harry, but with a girl like Meredith it wasn't hard to imagine.

I thought back to my tour of the house with Harry, and how we walked in on that couple in Meredith's bedroom. The girl, now that I thought about it, had looked very similar to Meredith. They both had sharp features, red lips and analogous hair colors.

But that couldn't have been Meredith… She was probably as smart as a box of Bludgers but I'm sure she wasn't stupid enough to sleep with someone else at Harry's lake house. She was a whore, and I wouldn't put it past her to cheat on him, but I was quite sure that couldn't have been her.

Besides, even if she was cheating Harry, he would never listen if anyone told him. Harry was far too trusting and loyal to think that his precious Meredith would ever do such a thing, and he would probably be very mad at the person who suggested it if that person didn't have proof.

"It says she sends Ron and Hermione her… formalities? That doesn't make sense. I think she meant she sends her love," Harry read, pulling the letter closer to his eyes in confusion. "But anyway, she says she'll be back next week sometime and she hopes we can all do something together."

"Who does?" Ron asked, walking in and taking the last slice of pizza. He sat on the couch on the other side of Hermione.

"Meredith," Harry answered, folding the letter back up.

"Do something with who?"

"You, Hermione, me, and her."

I cleared my throat. "I think she forgot me," I said unflappably.

Hermione laughed.

Harry didn't.

After breakfast, the four of us got on the boat again. Hermione and I went tubing, which was probably the scariest thing I had ever done since Harry was letting Ron drive the boat, but we had fun. Later, Harry, Hermione, and I went to an old bridge over the water and jumped off while Ron counted us off from the boat (feeling ill, my butt).

Ron went water-skiing and fell off so many times Hermione and I stopped cheering him on and started talking about skydivers. When he got back on the boat, the four of us went on a joyride around the lake. I found Sunshine Lake was a lot larger than I had pictured in my mind.

When we returned to the lake house, Hermione and I packed up to Apparate back home. Ron and Harry were staying for a few more days, so I hugged Harry and Ron goodbye and Harry promised he'd keep in touch with me. I rolled my eyes and sent him some sarcastic remark, but I was secretly thrilled that we were on good terms again.

Ron told me to tell Summer he said hello. I told him I'd tell her that he wanted to shag her. Ron wasn't very happy with me after that.

After Ron had kissed Hermione goodbye (I had raised my eyebrows curiously), Hermione and I said our goodbyes and I Apparated back to Summer's backyard.

"Summer?" I called, opening the back door. "Amy?"

"In here!" I heard Amy call from the den. I wandered in and they smiled at me.

Amy was reading the July issue of _Witch Weekly_ and Summer had charmed her dog Sandy so that a snow cloud would follow him all around the house. I almost slipped on some melted snow, but I grabbed onto the back of the sofa in just enough time.

"How was your trip?" Amy asked.

I hesitated. I wasn't really in the mood to give them enormous details. "Good," I said.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah."

"Did you snog Harry?" Summer interjected.

"Oh yeah," I answered with a roll of my eyes. "Intense make-out fest. You know."

Summer smirked. "There's no need for sarcasm," she said. Sandy jumped into her lap and started snowing on her. "Eugh!" Summer shrieked, standing up so quickly Sandy tumbled off her lap and onto the floor. "That's so cold!"

I burst out laughing and Amy frowned, taking Summer's spell off of Sandy.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so mean to your dog," she said.

Summer sat back down, grumbling. "But really, Ginny. Did anything important happen while you were out partying with our Number One Sex God?"

I thought about Harry and I's almost-kiss on his makeshift Quidditch pitch, and I thought about our huge fight the next day. I thought about how he didn't really like Meredith, and I thought about me admitting my love for him on that balcony.

"No," I replied. "Nothing too important." I didn't know why I wasn't telling Summer and Amy about anything that happened. They had been my best friends for at least seven years, and we always told each other everything. I just knew that I would regret telling them all the things that happened, and I was afraid they would think I was completely lovesick or pathetic or whatever.

In other words, it was my pride keeping me from telling them. I was saddened to think that, but that's how it goes.

"Ron did set the kitchen on fire, though," I said, tossing my bag on the floor and sitting on the loveseat.

"Of course he did," Summer said with a snort.

"He sends you his love, Summer," I said, laughing.

"Speaking of love," Amy said, standing up and walking into the kitchen. She picked up a white envelope and handed it to me. "You got a letter."

The envelope had an address written in the top left corner, and in the center of the envelope my name was scrawled in messy black ink. I flipped the envelope over to open it, but I realized it had already been opened.

I raised a brow. "You opened my mail for me?" I asked disbelievingly.

Summer shrugged. "We were curious."

"We're sorry, Ginny," Amy apologized. "We were just wondering who it was from and how they found you."

I took the piece of paper out from the envelope and unfolded it to read the letter.

_Dear Ginny,_ it read.

_Since you don't have a phone, I decided I'd write you a letter. Since I don't know where you live, I had to give it to the post office to deal with… I hope this got to you, because if not that would be really embarrassing._

_Anyway, I hope everything worked out with that family emergency you had during our date. On one hand, I had to sit there alone like a fool, but on the other hand, I got to eat the rest of the rolls all by myself._

_I'm rambling. The point of this very sporadic letter is that I thought our date was a ton of fun and I want to see you again sometime soon. I was thinking maybe this Friday night? Call me for details, please. My number is 02064920715, with the London area code. I can't wait to see you again, and I hope things are going well with your friends that I met. Give them my greetings, and I hope to see you Friday._

_Sincerely,_

_Mark Hollis._

I finished reading the letter and folded it up, wondering how the post office had known I was at Summer's house. I supposed there were wizards who worked in the Muggle post offices to take care of things like that.

"What the hell is an area code?" I asked inquisitively.

"It doesn't matter," Summer said, practically throwing the Muggle telephone at my face. All of Summer's family was magical, but they had enough money to have both wizard and Muggle appliances. "Just call him."

"Now?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yes, now!" Summer began punching in the number Mark had given. "No time like the present!"

I yanked the telephone out of her grasp and held it up to my ear. She and Amy leaned in to listen, but all I could hear was an annoying ringing sound.

"Hello?" I heard a male voice ask. I looked at the telephone curiously. I could hear his voice coming from it. It was _bizarre._

"Mark?" I yelled into the telephone. Could he hear me like I could hear him? I yelled louder. "THIS IS GINNY, ARE YOU THERE?"

I heard Mark laugh. "Hi, Ginny," he said. "Why are you yelling?"

I looked over at Summer and she was pretending to slice her throat with her hand. "BECAUSE… SUMMER IS DYING?"

"What?"

"SHE'S ACTING LIKE SOMEONE IS CHOPPING HER HEAD OFF!" I yelled.

"You're stupid, Ginny, I'm telling you to stop yelling!" Summer said exasperatedly.

"Oh," I said. Mark laughed again.

"Well, I'm guessing you got my letter?" he asked.

I nodded and Mark didn't say anything for a moment.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Well, what?"

"You got my letter?"

"Yes?" I said. I thought I already answered that. Beside me, Amy rolled her eyes.

I'M SORRY I'M NOT MUGGLE-BORN LIKE YOU ARE, AMY, AND DON'T KNOW HOW TO WORK A TELEPHONE.

"Okay, good," Mark said with a small chuckle. "So, how does this Friday night sound for another date?"

"That sounds really great, Mark."

"Really?" I heard him breathe out a sigh of relief. "Great."

"Where are we going to go?"

"Well, I've got this really great idea of a place we can go," Mark said, "but that's all I'm going to say. I want to keep it a surprise!"

I grinned. "I like surprises!"

"I figured you would." I could hear the smile in Mark's voice.

"Cool," I said.

"Where are you staying right now?"

I described to him how to get to Summer's house, with Summer's help, of course. Summer eventually got too frustrated with trying to wordlessly tell me directions to give to Mark, and she ripped the telephone away from me and told him herself. I could hear what he was saying and the amusement in his tone, and it made me smile. Mark was a good kid.

"Okay, tell Ginny I'll pick her up at six?" I heard Mark ask Summer.

"Sure." Summer put a hand over the mouthpiece and said, "He's going to pick you up at six."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Summer. Tell him I'm looking forward to it."

Summer removed her hand and said to Mark, "She says she's looking forward to it."

Mark laughed once more, said goodbye, and hung up. Summer glared at me and Amy began trying to stifle her laugh.

"You're completely brainless, you know that?" she said to me.

"Says the one who got a 'D' on their History of Magic O.W.L. in Fifth Year," I said cheekily.

"Who needs History of Magic anyway," Summer grumbled, walking into the kitchen to put the telephone away.

I thought about my upcoming second date with Mark. Well technically, it would be our second date, but I hoped we could actually make it all the way through this one.

I felt kind of guilty about using Mark, now that I was positive I was in love with Harry. But if Harry could date Meredith, I could date Mark, right?

…Right. I thought so.

* * *

A/N: I love Ron. And reviews. It'd be great if yall reviewed.  
I've had this written since forever, but I had to wait to upload it until chapter 8 validated on HPFF (I hate validation more than anything, I always get rejected)..  
Buuut, I love obsessing over Adam Young. And just Adam Young in general.

Oh, and I've started a new James/Lily story, _It's Kind Of A Funny Story, _and it'd be awesome if yall checked it out!  
Happy holidays, everybody!

Songs: Lithium - Evanscence, Gravity Rides Everything - Modest Mouse, Bold As Love - John Mayer, Daylight - Matt & Kim

Review!


	10. Hit The Lights

I HATE MY LIFE. I had 3,878 words written, I click backspace, and suddenly the webpage goes out. There was no possible way to get all the things I'd written back, and I was SO FREAKING PISSED because I knew for a fact I had saved my story before 2,068 words but I can't get any of it back! So not I have to re-type EVERYTHING and I started crying because I really CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW OH MY GOSH I WANT TO SCREAM

So yeah. Rant = over... But I'm still freaking pissed.

I own every single song EVER (even the ones that are nearly impossible to find) by All Time Low and Owl City. Actually, I own every song EVER by Adam Young (Owl City) in general.  
Just saying. Yeah. So. Whatever.

Disclaimer: j.k. rowling owns harry potter, broseph

* * *

_Let's follow through with this reckless dream  
It's tearing me up inside  
And all the time we'll make it seem  
Like we have nothing to hide  
_-Hit the Lights - All Time Low

* * *

Summer, Amy, and I spent the rest of the week lounging around the house and watching reruns of cheesy Muggle cartoons. I found myself laughing hysterically at the cat named Tom and the mouse named Jerry.

They were my favorite.

The girls and I did end up stopping by St. Mungo's to visit Charlie. He had been awake, but barely. Mum told us that had been the first day Charlie had been awake, and he was expected to talk again in a few days. Amy had cooed over Charlie and said she wished he would feel better, and then we left. We got some lunch at a nearby London café and returned to Summer's house.

Thursday, the day before my date with Mark, I found out that try-outs for the Holyhead Harpies were to be held next Wednesday. I was nervous with them being so close, so I forced Summer outside to play some pick-up games with me. Amy cheered from below, since she didn't know jack about Quidditch, and when we were finished I felt quite confident about my skills.

Thursday night, Summer mentioned that Mark had said to dress formally. I didn't have anything formal, so naturally the girls and I took a late-night shopping trip. I was quite happy with what I found.

Before I knew it, it was Friday morning.

"Hello," I mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen at a quarter after noon for breakfast. Amy was sitting alone at the table eating a bagel and reading the _Daily Prophet_. I sat down beside her and grabbed a bagel.

"Good morning," Amy said good-naturedly. "Summy's still asleep. I thought about going in her room with a bull-horn, but I decided that wouldn't do much good."

"What's a bull horn?" I asked, smearing jam on my bagel.

Amy rolled her eyes and turned the page of the newspaper. We ate in silence until Summer came barreling down the stairs.

"Hi," she said loudly, throwing herself in the chair beside Amy and reaching for a bagel.

Amy and I said our greetings and returned to whatever we were doing. Summer was not very happy with the silence.

"So, are you excited for your date, Ginny?"

I took my time chewing my bagel. "Yes."

"Good. Me too."

Amy folded her paper up loudly and looked at Summer with amusement. "Sum, you _do_ realize that you're not going on the date with her, don't you?"

"Why, of course I do," Summer said, miffed. "I'm just getting excited."

I rolled my eyes and finished my bagel, looking at the clock. It was half past noon, and I decided it was time to take a shower. I left my plate for Splinty to take and went to my room.

My shower was short, and I was in and out within a matter of minutes. There was really nothing for me to think about. Was I nervous for my date with Mark? Slightly. But I knew everything was going to go well… or at least, I hoped it would.

Before long, it was time to begin getting ready. Amy put on my make-up and Summer did my hair. It was curly and styled up into an elegant ponytail, showing off my long diamond earrings.

The dress I bought was brown and one-shouldered. It was silky, shiny, and simple. It bunched together under the bust and bubbled out around my waist. I found some tall beige heels to go with it, and I looked sexy and classy all at the same time.

I looked great and I knew it. Now all I had left to do was wait for Mark to get here.

Summer, Amy, and I were sprawled across Summer's bed watching Tom and Jerry when the doorbell rang. Summer's dog Sandy started barking, and I jumped up, pulling my dress down and rushing to find my purse.

"Coming!" Summer yelled to the door, thundering down the stairs. I heard her open the door and greet Mark.

"Hey," he said. "You're Summer, right?"

"That's me," I heard Summer reply.

"Purse, purse, purse," I muttered to myself, looking around my room frantically.

"Is this it?" Amy called. She wandered into my bedroom and held up the beige handbag I had been looking for. "Sandy had tugged it in my room."

"Yes!" I said gratefully, taking the bag from her. I spritzed some perfume on my neck and hurried out of the room, calling, "Bye, Ames, love you!" over my shoulder.

I stopped halfway down the staircase when I caught wind of what Summer was saying.

"Have you ever been to jail?" Summer was drilling to my date.

Mark, who was leaning against the doorframe, looked slightly disturbed.

"No?" he replied.

"Have you ever broken the law?"

"Yes?"

"What did you do?"

"I drank underage!" Mark said, flustered.

Summer studied him for a moment, her gaze slightly intimidating. I felt bad for Mark. Summy could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

"...Are you a rapist?" she asked seriously after a silent pause.

I burst out laughing, and saved Mark from having to answer the hysterically awkward question by distracting Summer.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed, her mood taking one of her infamous 180-degree turns. "You look hot!"

"I do what I can," I answered cheekily. I bounded down the remaining stairs and stood beside Mark.

"You look beautiful, Ginny," he said with a heartbreakingly adorable smile. It really was too bad I was in love with Harry and couldn't enjoy Mark's smiles like I wished I could.

"Thanks," I beamed. "Okay, well I'm ready to go, so let's go!"

Mark and I turned to leave, but Summer stopped us.

"Wait!" she all but shouted at us. "I haven't asked Mark about his intentions with you yet!"

I turned to face my best friend and kept my expression impassive. "He's using me for sex," I deadpanned. Beside me, Mark hacked out a cough to hide his laughter. "We're going to the strip club and then he's planning on knocking me up to tell his friends he got some great stuff. Then he's going to give me marijuana and get me completely out-of-my-mind drunk. At the same time."

"Is that even possible?" Mark whispered to me. "Can you get drunk while you're on marijuana?"

"I don't know, just go with it," I whispered back.

Summer's face was somewhat horrified and disgusted. Mark's face was red from trying to contain his amusement.

"And then after that, we'll have sex again," I added as an afterthought. Then I grinned. "Well, bye, Sum!"

I turned, waved at her over my shoulder, and looped my arm through Mark's. We walked to the car, chatting and laughing. He opened the door for me and waited until I was seated to close the door. He walked around the car and sat in the driver's seat, and before I knew it we were on our way.

Conversation flowed easily in Mark's sleek blue two-door car. We discussed everything that came to our minds, from music to vacations to gross diseases. It felt like we had been driving for a while now, but I was in no hurry. I had nothing better to do anyway.

"So, where are we going?" I asked after an intense debate over hippos.

Mark chuckled. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

I rolled my eyes and playfully stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned.

"Mark, we've been in the car forever!"

"It's not my fault your lunatic best friend lives in the middle of nowhere!"

"Summer is not a lunatic!" I defended. "She's just slightly mental sometimes."

"Yeah," Mark snorted. "_Sometimes._"

We were in the car for maybe another twenty minutes, by which point I had tried on Mark's sunglasses twice and asked "are we there yet?" thirteen times.

"Ginny, put the sunglasses _down_," Mark said.

"Now, why on earth would I do that?"

"It's _dark _outside. You look like a homeless person."

"Yeah, because all homeless people wear silk dresses and high heels."

Throughout the eight-year-long car ride, it had been easy for me to see that Mark and I got on quite magnificently. He was like the less-mental best friend-brother cross mix I had never had (because, you know, my friends are mental, and my brothers are mental... yeah). We bicker about stupid things, and then we laugh about it. We discuss the things we have in common, and debate over the things we don't. Plus, he doesn't know about any of the crap in my life that makes things so difficult, like the fact that I'm a witch. Not that I ever planned on telling him that.

_Oh yeah, Mark, I forgot to tell you, but I'm a witch. Surprise!_

_Oh, okay, that's cool, Ginny. I'll go write an article about it in the _London Times_ now so you get burned at the stake!_

_Yay! Let us eat cake!_

Or the fact that I was in love with Harry Potter.

_Oh yeah, Mark, I forgot to tell you, but I'm absolutely in love with this bloke named Harry Potter. Surprise!_

_Oh, okay, that's cool, Ginny. I'll go write an article about it in the _London Times_ now so everyone knows you're a slut!_

_Yay! Let us eat more cake!_

Yep. That's exactly how those conversations would go down.

"So, are we there yet?" I asked, tossing Mark's sunglasses (they said _Ray-Ban_ on the side, whatever that meant) onto the dash.

"Actually, yes, we are."

I looked up to see we were under a huge awning, where valets were taking expensive-looking cars to a parking deck I couldn't see. The building was cream-colored and wide, with long windows so dark I couldn't even see my reflection in them. _Le Genou au l'Abeille_ was written in large, red cursive near the top of the building, lighting up and sending a reddish glow on the pavement below. I could tell this was a very high-maintenance restaurant, and I could only imagine what the inside looked like.

"Wow," I said, watching a valet scramble up to the car and open my door for me. I told him thanks and climbed as gracefully as I could out of the car.

"It really is something, isn't it?" Mark commented, handing his keys to the valet and coming to stand beside me.

I nodded, and I felt his hand on my lower back as he guided me to the tall glass doors guarded by two workers in green.

"Name, please?" The worker on the left asked. There was a clipboard in his hand.

"Hollis," Mark answered easily.

The worker consulted his clipboard and checked us off the list. The two workers opened the doors for Mark and I, and we walked in together.

It was all I could do to stand still in shock and marvel at the beauty of the interior. Dozens of chandeliers adorned the intricately carved ceiling while hundreds of tables with white tablecloths were scattered strategically on the floor. Three of the walls were decorated with beautiful paintings of angels and bees in large fields, and the fourth wall was completely dominated by a massive fish tank.

There was a small woman in a long green dress holding a clipboard, and Mark walked up to her and gave her his name. I was barely paying attention – there was a sword fish in the fish tank. A sword fish!

"Right this way," the woman said kindly.

Mark took my hand and all but dragged me to our table. The woman led us to the side of the restaurant opposite the fish tank, and seated us at a table for two near the wall with a painting of an angel and a bumblebee holding hands. She left us two elegant menus and then left with a smile.

"Mark, Mark, look!" I said excitedly, pointing to the fish tank. "They've got a sword fish!"

Mark laughed and lowered my pointing hand. "Shhh, Ginny, stop pointing, I see the sword fish."

"I think there's a piranha in there, too! That's so cool."

"Ginny, people are staring at you," Mark said.

"People always stare at me," I muttered, but I turned away from the fish tank and stared instead at the painting on the wall.

The angel had this enormous smile on, and I couldn't tell if it was a boy angel or a girl angel, but I guessed it didn't matter. The angel was beautiful, but the bumblebee kind of made me confused.

"Hey, Mark?" I asked. He looked up from his menu. "Why are the walls covered in pictures of angels and bees frolicking in fields?"

Mark chuckled. "_Le Genou au l'Abeille _is French for 'The Knee of the Bee,'" he explained.

"Why don't they just call it 'The Knee of the Bee?'"

"Would _you_ want to eat somewhere called 'The Knee of the Bee?'"

"Yes."

Mark rolled his eyes and muttered, "Only you, Ginny, only you."

After that, our waiter came up and asked us if we wanted wine. Mark ordered red wine and I ordered white. I noticed our waiter had a dupont mustache, and I was immaturely reminded of Hitler. I thought back to my Hitler vs. Voldemort debate and mentally laughed to myself.

"You drink red wine?" I asked Mark once the waiter left, laughing.

"Yes! Don't tell me white wine is better."

"White wine_ is_ better!" I said. "Besides, I can see you spilling your red wine all over this fancy white tablecloth and staining it. Then you'll never be allowed back in this place, not to mention the fact of how embarrassed you'd be to have made a fool of yourself in front of your super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot date –"

"Okay, number one, who says you're super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot?" Mark interrupted, smirking. I glared at him, and he continued, "And number two, who says I'll never be allowed back in this place? I'll _always_ be allowed. And third, what makes you think I would spill my wine, hmm? It'd be less surprising from _you_!"

"Moi?" I asked, delicately (and dramatically) placing a hand over my heart. "Never!"

Mark burst out laughing. Honestly, here we go again. I'm really not that funny.

The waiter returned with two elegant glasses filled with wine, one dark red and the other a very light green. The first one went to Mark, and the second one went to me.

We said our thanks to the waiter, and he bowed to us slightly and left without a word.

Mark reached for his wine.

"Be careful," I warned with a smile, taking a drink of my own wine.

"You know, they never asked us for any ID," Mark commented, ignoring me. "That's weird."

"Weird," I agreed. Though I had used my magically-enhanced fake-ID multiple times, I still got freaked out when I had to use it. I was only eighteen, after all.

"Maybe I should talk to them about that, or something…" Mark mumbled, trailing off into his own thoughts.

I sipped my wine slowly and stared at the painting on the wall. "What were you saying earlier, Mark?" I asked. "Something about how if you spilled your wine they would still let you in. Why? What makes you say that?"

Mark gave me a sideways smile, and I felt my heart skip a beat for a moment. I may be in love with Harry, but hey, I'm female, and Mark was hot. DON'T JUDGE ME!

"Well you see, the paintings you see on the walls were all done by hand by my grandfather and my dad," Mark explained. "My uncle helped some, but it was mostly them. When this restaurant was being made, the company just wanted to have pictures of bees. My grandfather thought that was a stupid idea, so he added some classic angels in the pictures with some bees.

"It's what makes this place so famous, the artistic spin of classics with the modern images. If you look closely, you can tell that my grandfather and my dad put the most effort in the angels and that they didn't care much about the bees or the fields. That's why the angels are so much more prominent in the painting than anything else. Around the time this was being painted, my grandmother died. Suddenly, the angels meant so much more to our family than they had before. Her face is painted on that angel over there," Mark concluded, pointing to the left wall adjacent to the fish tank.

"Can we go look at it?" I asked.

"Maybe later, when we won't get weird looks."

"We've already gotten weird looks tonight."

"No, _you've_ already gotten weird looks tonight," Mark pointed out. "I'm just guilty by association."

I grinned. "So if your dad, grandfather, and your uncle were all artists, why are you a journalist? What went wrong?"

Mark shrugged. "My mum was a writer. I guess the artistic genes just skipped over me. I can barely draw stick figures."

"I know what you mean," I said dryly, thinking back to the time I drew a picture of Michael Corner being attacked by an octopus that ended up looking like two black sticks being mauled by a bunch of purple squiggly lines.

"One time, for Valentine's Day, there was this girl I had this huge crush on," Mark said, launching into his story mode. "I worked for two days on this picture I drew of a teddy bear holding a heart that said 'Happy Valentine's Day!' I gave it to her on February 14th and she threw it back at me, thinking it was a drawing of a bear being shot. She screamed and told me I was a bear-hater. That was the worst Valentine's Day ever."

I made a pitying sound that was tainted by my laughter.

"Oi! Stop your laughing!" Mark said, but he was smiling.

"You know, I used to be a writer," I said.

"Used to be?" Mark asked. "Please explain."

"I was a poet, actually. When I was eleven, I wrote a Valentine's Day poem for this bloke I was completely obsessed with," I said with a small smile. I decided not to mention that the bloke I was obsessed with was currently the man I was in love with. "I don't remember it exactly, but it went something like _his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard, I wish he was mine, he's really divine…_ and I've forgotten the rest," I said, giggling lightly to hide my lie. I did remember the end, it was _the hero who conquered the Dark Lord_, but I figured that saying that part would lead to unwanted questions.

Mark was laughing. "You're like the next Eliot, then, aren't you?"

"Ha, ha, yeah…" I said, grinning like I knew exactly what an elliott was.

"Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, what do you want to do as a career?" Mark asked, sipping his wine and looking at me with honest interest.

Oh, you know, I just want to be an International Quidditch Player. No biggie.

"Erm, I don't know yet," I said, reaching for my wine and gulping a sip down so Mark wouldn't ask me any more questions.

I drank too fast. The white wine burned down my throat, scorching my windpipe and sending unpleasant feelings into my stomach. I started coughing.

"Are you alright?" Mark asked in concern.

"I'm – fine," I wheezed, coughing like crazy. Ugh. Stupid wine.

My eyes were starting to water up.

"Should I get you some water?"

"No, no, I'm okay –" I started to croak out my protest, but Mark already had his hand waving in the air. I tried to drink more wine to stop the hacking coughs, but that only made it worse.

Through the tiny tears leaking out of my eyes, I could see a shock of red hair talking to the woman in the long green dress at the entrance of the restaurant.

My first thought was: Oh, cool, another ginger. My throat hurts.

But after a closer look, my next thought was: Bloody hell, that's Ron! Ron Weasley! My brother! Ron Weasley, my brother!

A girl with pretty, curly brown hair joined him seconds later, followed by a tall girl with dark hair. I knew who the girl was and I knew who was coming in after her, as much as I didn't want to. I wanted to look away, but I found I couldn't.

When Harry walked into the building, I was positive I felt all the wind rush out of my lungs. My coughing stopped along with my heart, and I think my brain stopped working for a second there, too.

I took a deep, shaky breath and forced my gaze away from the sight of Harry's hand on Meredith's back. Mark still had his hand waving in the air, so I reached across the table and pushed it down.

"What're you –" Mark asked in confusion.

"I'm fine now, see?" I said steadily, letting him know that I had not just been choking in a near-death experience.

Mark nodded slowly at me, raised his eyebrows, and then looked down to study the menu for the first time tonight.

As he did so, I considered my situation. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Meredith were standing at the entrance. They were about to be seated. They might see me on my date with Mark.

Not that I was ashamed of Mark, I was just afraid of what would happen to him after Harry and Ron switched into their "Protect Ginny" mode. I didn't want to make things awkward while having to talk to Harry while he was on his date with his little prostitute, but I didn't know what to do and time was running out. Harry was talking to the lady in the long green dress and they would be seated in a matter of moments.

I weighed my options.

Option One: Get up, go to the bathroom, and hide there forever until I saw a roach. Then I would leave. The problem with this genius Option One was that the two couples at the glass doors might spot me getting up, as I was quite hard to miss (mostly because of my hair, but I was also naturally sexy and people liked to stare at me in envy).

Option Two: conjure up a blonde wig in my purse and wear it, thereby disguising myself so no one would recognize me if I turned my face toward the wall. The problem with my even-more-genius-plan-than-Option-One-Option-Two was that Mark would get really weirded out and he would leave to go someplace weird like South Africa and I would never get to admire his hotness ever again.

Even though his hotness was the last thing on my mind at the moment, but that didn't matter. Neither of my quickly-formed options were going to work, and there was nothing I could think to do.

It was all I could do to hope and think and wish and pray that the woman in the green dress would seat the two couples on the opposite side of the restaurant, by the fish tank.

But of course, luck was against me. The whole world was against me.

"I was thinking of getting the chicken alfredo this time," Mark remarked, clearly not noticing that I was not paying one lick of attention to him. "What do you think?"

The lady in the green dress began leading the party of four towards the table where Mark and I were seated. Each step the four of them took was like the sound of a clock ticking.

On one hand, I selfishly wanted Harry to see me. I wanted him to see how good I looked and who I was with, and I wanted him to get jealous. But on the other hand, I didn't want him to see me at all. After all we'd been through at the lake – after all we'd been through _ever_ – I felt embarrassed to see him somewhere like this with someone I met at a club.

"Play along," I whispered quickly to Mark.

"What are you talking about?" he answered just as quietly, looking up from his menu to stare at me in bewilderment.

"Laugh when I give you the signal," I said, noticing that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Meredith were now a few yards away from where Mark and I sat.

He looked confused, but nodded. Thank God for you, Mark.

When the four of them were within feet of our table, I took a quick breath and launched into my made-up story.

"…And so then I had to say, 'Bob, that's not a slice of cheese!' because he thought I was talking about the polar bear!" I invented wildly, winking at Mark. We both threw our heads back and fake-laughed hysterically.

"Ginny? Is that you?"

I knew before I moved my head that the speaker was Hermione. I kept fake-laughing a little bit as I righted myself and looked Hermione square in the eye. I noticed that she looked beautiful in a pale yellow dress and a simple diamond necklace. Then I looked at Meredith and saw that she was the epitome of the word "prostitute" in a skin-tight blue dress and stilettos taller than the ones I wore to the Muggle club. What a whore.

"Hermione!" I fake-exclaimed, wiping fake-tears from my eyes that were leftover from my fake-laughter. Great googly moogly, everything about me was fake these days. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, just going on a date," Hermione answered benevolently.

"Sounds fun!" I said. "But I didn't see you come in?"

"We've only just arrived. We're being seated right now, actually."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you!" I said brightly, trying to keep my emotions out of my voice. Hermione began to leave, but the action was cut short.

"What're you doing here?" Ron asked loudly. Honestly, that boy needed some manners.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm on a date, nosey, what's it to you?"

Ron folded his arms and glared pointedly at Mark, who cleared his throat uncomfortably and squirmed around in his seat. I stole a glance at Harry – who was looking quite dashing in his Muggle suit, I must say – and found that his expression was completely impassive and pale. The only thing on his face that gave him away was his jaw moving as he ground his teeth together, and his eyes that were practically narrowed into slits at Mark. I wasn't sure how I felt about his expression, but I looked away before Meredith could pounce on me like the cougar she was.

"Everyone, this is Mark Hollis," I introduced, trying to cover up the palpable awkwardness. "Mark, this is Hermione, my brother Ron, Harry, and… Meredith." I gestured to each person as I said their name.

"It's nice to meet you," Mark said to them with a gorgeous smile.

I snuck another glance at Harry. Were his eyes even open anymore? How could he see out of them when they were narrowed so much?

I noticed Meredith close in on Harry and gaze at him as though he was something yummy, like a lollipop. Well, let me tell YOU, little girl, that lollipops are dangerous and can get stuck in your stupid, over-dyed stupidly-shiny hair and you can never get them out ever ever never no matter how many expensive hair products you use because lollipops are bad news because they will leave you to go fight in a war and then they won't talk to you and then they'll hook up with skanks who like lollipops!

I don't like lollipops!

And I'm not a skank, either!

…I was glad I had my thoughts to myself. Whew. It would be weird if I had said all of that out loud.

"It was nice meeting you, too," Hermione replied kindly to Mark.

The woman in the long green dress, who had been watching our exchange wordlessly, cleared her throat loudly, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Meredith followed her to a booth in the corner, only a few tables away.

"Geez," Mark said once they were out of earshot. "Not a very friendly bunch, are they?"

"Consider yourself lucky," I muttered to him, glaring darkly at my brother across the room. "My last date ended up with a load of tar in his hair. And I think a few ladybugs were in there, too."

Mark made a horrified face, but then he smiled and told me he was joking. I hoped to Merlin he was.

I sighed and picked up my menu. "Sorry that put a damper on our date so far, Mark-O," I said.

"It's alright, we haven't even ordered yet!" Mark said optimistically.

I grinned at him before I focused in on Harry and Ron whispering together in their sketchy booth in the corner. I wanted to make a big poster that said "STOP BEING SO WEIRD" and hold it up so they could see it, but I figured that would attract unwanted attention. Besides, I didn't know where I would get the poster from.

"On the bright side," Mark said, picking up his glass, "I haven't spilled my wine yet."

I laughed, feeling the stress I had been feeling slip away for a moment. There was a whizzing sound, a shatter, a curse, and then suddenly the entire white tablecloth was doused in red wine.

"What the hell?" Mark exclaimed, jumping to his feet and looking around at the damage with a bewildered expression. "I don't know how this happened! What did I do?"

I inspected the shattered glass, the sharp pieces strewn all over the table and the floor. Mark hadn't done this, I was sure, but I had a pretty good idea of who did.

I looked over at the booth in the corner, where Hermione was looking on with an appalled expression while Ron was laughing. I couldn't see Meredith at all, but I could see Harry, plain and clear. His eyes met mine, and he just kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

And then he pocketed his wand, smirked, and for the first time, I looked away before he did.

* * *

*super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot sound familiar? Yep. I took that from AVPM. Just for kicks. I quote AVPM/AVPS a lot. if you've never seen those, go now. go to Youtube, type A Very Potter Musical, click Act 1, Scene 1.  
go do it. now. I'm watching.

A/N: Likin this one? yeahyeahyeah. it's 11:18 at night and I'm reeeeeeally tired...  
Too much Mark? Do yall even like Mark? In my mind, he's pretty hot. not gonna lie.

Songs: Whoever She Is - The Maine; Confidence - Teddy Geiger; 1983 - Neon Trees; Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional; Nicest Thing - Kate Nash

Quotes? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Song Suggestions (not that I really need them, but they're always nice to have, I suppose.)

REVIEW, HOES.

Yeah. peace out? groovy? GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY.


	11. The Nicest Thing

Gah, I'm so dadgum pessimistic. Good thing I like it that way, because I hate happy people.

Yall better love me for getting this out so early. Well, it's not really EARLY, but still. It's in a decent enough time frame.

Disclaimer: JKROHP OKAY

* * *

_I wish that without me your heart would break_  
_I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake_  
_I wish that without me you couldn't eat_  
_I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep_

-The Nicest Thing – Kate Nash

* * *

Despite the issue with Harry blowing up Mark's wine, the rest of our date went well. Right after the incident, I told Mark that he should go to the bathroom and clean up. After he left, I looked around to make sure no one was watching and cleaned up the wine with my wand under the table. When Mark returned, I told him a waiter had replaced the tablecloth with no trouble.

Mark and I didn't stay at _Le Genou au l'Abeille _for long. I told him I didn't want to stay there any longer, and he agreed. He flagged down a waiter, paid for our wine, and then with a scathing glare at Harry and Ron, we drove to Burger King.

"What are you getting?" I asked Mark as we waited in line to order. It smelled like tuna in Burger King.

"Double Whopper," Mark answered. "With okra."

I made a face. Okra. Gross.

"I want a kids meal," I announced loudly to Mark. The old couple in line in front of us turned around to blink at me. If I weren't so nice, I would have told them to sod off.

Mark chuckled and we wandered up to the cashier.

"Can I h-help you?" she asked. She had a stuttering problem. I cringed.

"Yeah, can I get a Double Whopper with okra, and a cup of tea?" Mark ordered.

The woman punched some buttons on her computer and turned to me.

"Um, can I get a chicken nugget kids meal with a water?" I asked.

"The k-kids meals are only f-for children ages t-twelve and under," the cashier told me, narrowing her eyes.

I blinked at her. "And?"

"Did I s-stutter?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

The cashier was full-out glaring at me now. "The k-kids meals are f-for children ages –"

"Just get me the damn kids meal!" I screeched at her. Mark put a calming hand on my shoulder, but I could hear him trying to hide his laughter.

The woman snorted indignantly, and punched some buttons on her computer."Anything e-else?"

"No, thank you," Mark said easily, sliding in front of me to pay the cashier.

I huffed and folded my arms across my chest. Stupid Muggles who don't let me get my stupid kids meals. Stupid Meredith who steals my stupid ex-boyfriend. Stupid Harry who ruins my stupid date. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I was still muttering darkly under my breath when Mark showed up by my left elbow with two paper bags in hand.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Go?" I said. "I thought we were staying here."

"I don't think staying would be a good idea," Mark said, chuckling. "Little Miss Stuttershine over there looks like she would like nothing better than to leap over the counter and bash you over the head with a frying pan."

"I'd like to see her try," I muttered.

Mark led me to the door and held it open for me, but I wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"You go on," I told him, "I'll meet you in the car. I need some... mayonnaise."

"For you chicken nuggets?"

"Of course."

Mark shrugged, but left. I wandered over to the jutting topping table and squatted down behind it, being careful to make sure I didn't flash everybody in the building with my goodies. I pulled my wand out of my purse and gave it a sharp jab in the cashier's direction.

I heard her hiss in pain. I stood up, straightened my dress, and grabbed about eighty packets of mayonnaise. I flashed the cashier a mischievous grin and bolted it out of there before she could somehow blame me for all her itchy skin problems.

I clambered into Mark's car and buckled up quickly. I chucked all the mayonnaise packets into the paper bag and told Mark to step on it. He blinked at me, but did as I asked without asking. Thank God for you, Mark.

"Where are we going?" I asked Mark after we had pulled out of the Burger King parking lot.

"I dunno," Mark said, reaching into the bag with one hand and pulling out a fry. He popped it into his mouth and asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere."

Mark drove up to a red light and grinned at me. "I've got just the place."

"Well, that's great," I said, rolling my eyes. "If you could tell me where it is, that would be spectacular."

"Well, I could… but I won't."

"I'm going to complain the whole way there."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Is it far away?"

"Not really."

"Are we going to eat there?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "No, Ginny, we're going to toss the food off a cliff."

"So we're going to a cliff?"

"Ginny, shut up."

I scowled at him and folded my arms across my chest, glaring mockingly out the window.

"Oh, don't be like that, Ginny," Mark said, laughing. "I'm only joking."

"Yeah, we'll see who's joking when I toss _you_ off a cliff," I muttered darkly.

Mark snorted at me, but didn't reply. I hoped I had scared him. Ruddy git deserved it, telling me he's going to throw my hard-earned kids meal off a cliff.

I didn't worry much about where we were going until Mark turned onto a dark, narrow road that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. I was dying to ask "Are we there yet?" but with much internal strength, I resisted the urge.

The road was twisty and gravelly, causing Mark's car to bounce around. Twice, the car jerked so hard I whacked my head on the window. After the second time, I just rolled the window down. Bada bing, bada boom, problem solved.

I was just about to start complaining about how I had to pee when Mark declared that we were there.

"Where are we, exactly?" I asked, climbing out of the car and looking around. "It looks like we're in the middle of the wilderness. It smells like trees."

The car was parked in the middle of a makeshift parking lot, surrounded by trees. A small trail ran into the trees.

"You'll see," Mark said, smiling. Blimey, his smile was so cute.

"Fine," I grumbled, following him and his bag of food onto the trail.

After about two minutes of dodging roots and avoiding sketchy-looking plants, I took my adorable beige heels off. I wouldn't want them to get ruined in the dirt or anything like that.

I take back what I said about Mark being a less-mental version of my best friends and brothers. He was completely barking. Surely he realized I wasn't a hi-ho-the-cherry-o-let's-go-camping type of girl. Honestly. I was the let's-go-kick-some-Death-Eater-ass-before-they-take-over-the-planet type of girl.

But of course Mark didn't know that.

"Oi, Mark-O," I called to my completely mental date, who happened to be way farther ahead on the trail than I was, "how much farther?"

"We've been walking for _maybe_ four minutes, Ginny," Mark pointed out.

"Yeah, but I was dressed for a fancy dinner, not for a hike cross-country."

"We're not going cross-country," Mark said with a chuckle. "Stop being so dramatic."

"You sound like my dad."

"Well, I guess someone has to."

I stopped walking and put my hands on my hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Chill out, Ginny, we're here," Mark said, walking out of the trees and off the path. I hurried to keep up with him, not wanting to get lost, even though I was still trying to figure out what he was talking about.

I burst through the trees and found myself in an enormous clearing on the edge of a cliff. City lights glimmered far off in the distance, beautifully busy, and above our heads stars glistened and clustered, more beautiful than I could see even at the Burrow.

"Wow," I gasped, spinning around and gazing at the sky. "The stars seem so close…"

"It's a great view, isn't it?" Mark said. I looked over at him and found him sitting cross-legged on the grass, pulling food out of the Burger King bag.

"It's amazing," I murmured, walking over to sit beside Mark on the grass. "I take back all that I said about you being barking mad."

"You never said any of that?"

"Oh. Well, I said it in my head."

"That makes me feel good." Mark handed me a box with the Burger King logo on it. "What else do you say about me in your head?"

"You may not want to know that."

Mark sighed. "You're probably right."

I winked at him and opened my box of chicken nuggets. I pulled one out and gazed at it.

"Mark!" I exclaimed, practically shoving my chicken nugget in his face. "Mark, look! MY CHICKEN IS SHAPED LIKE A CROWN!"

Mark laughed at me. "Yeah, that's generally how it goes," he said. "It's almost as though you've never had Burger King before."

I turned the chicken nugget over in my hands, completely in awe. "I don't eat Muggle fast food much," I said. I was so wrapped up in the shape of my food that I didn't notice my slip-up.

"'Muggle?'" Mark repeated quizzically. "What is that?"

I felt my eyes widen. Crap.

"Uh…"

My brain wasn't working fast enough to come up with a good lie. I hated my brain; it was never there when I needed it. What did we need brains for, anyway?

Except for, you know, to live. And stuff.

"Is it another one of those weird movies you and your friends watch?" Mark prodded.

"Yes!" I hollered. I coughed and brought my tone down to normal. "I mean, uh, yes. It's from a movie."

Mark shook his head with a small smile. "You guys watch must watch strange movies, then."

"We do." I took a small, experimental bite of my crown-shaped chicken nugget. It was good. I crammed the rest of it into my mouth in one go.

"What's the name of that movie?"

I froze. _Brain, if you're there, I need you now… _

Mark wasn't trying to prod, he was just genuinely curious, and I didn't want to flat-out lie to him…

"It's this movie called _Harry Potter and the_… um… _Chamber of Secrets_!" I invented. Harry's name just sort of slipped out, and he saved from the Chamber of Secrets that one time… it could be one hell of an adventure movie, okay? Don't judge me!

"Hmm," Mark said, taking a bite of his hamburger. "Never heard of it."

"That's because it's… Japanese."

"And you can understand it?"

"Umm…" I said. I picked up another chicken nugget and shoved it under his nose. "LOOK THIS ONE IS SHAPED LIKE A SWORD FISH!"

Mark laughed and launched into this rant about how I was easily amused. Or something. I wasn't really listening, but I was thinking about all the close calls I'd had tonight on the magic front. First with Harry/Ron blowing up Mark's wine, then with me cleaning the table, then with me jinxing the cashier at Burger King, then with the whole 'Muggle' thing, and I'm positive I had said Merlin's name in the car but Mark had just ignored it, and now I had told him about Harry. Well, kind of. But still, Harry relates directly to magic – I mean, he saved the entire magical community. He's, like, the greatest wizard of all time and stuff.

Yeah.

Mark had finished talking and was gazing out at the city. I leaned back to rest my weight on my hands and looked up at the stars again. I was reminded of Harry's lake house, and everything that happened. Of all the Quidditch practices, the almost-kiss, the fight. Of the fire, Ron and Hermione getting together _finally_, of Harry's confession about Meredith.

I thought about my wish on that shooting star, of how didn't come true. Harry didn't love me. I wasn't the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the morning. I wasn't the girl he thought about all day. I wasn't causing his heart to break. I wasn't toying with his emotions. I wasn't the girl in his dreams. I wasn't the girl who could make his heart race. I wasn't the girl he was with now.

I wasn't his girl. I might have been two years ago, but I clearly wasn't anymore. He had Meredith now.

But hadn't he said that he didn't like Meredith?

I almost laughed at the answer my brain came up with: Things change.

Change. What is that, anyway? The stars never changed. If I came back to this precise spot every night for the rest of forever, the sky would look the exact same. A shooting star may pass by, but I wouldn't wish on it. What's the point? It never comes true. Nothing changes, but that changes everything.

I wanted to give up. I wanted to stop loving Harry and be with Mark. Mark actually wanted to be with me, instead of being with someone else. Mark was here with me now, and Harry wasn't. But Mark didn't know anything. He didn't know who I was. He had never seen me at my worst. He had never seen me drenched with sweat, make-up-less and messy-haired after a Quidditch practice. He had never seen the look on my face as I battled numerous Death Eaters, numerous times. He had never seen me beaming with pride after Gryffindor won a match. He had never seen me grow up from an awkward eleven year old to who I am now.

Harry had seen all that, but he had still wanted to be with me. How could I give up on Harry when he was on my mind every second of every day?

Ugh. I even thought about Harry while I'm on dates with other blokes. Blimey, I was pathetic.

"They're so pretty," I muttered into the quiet, still staring up at the night sky.

"Yeah," Mark agreed.

I turned my head and found him staring not at the stars, but at me. Guilt stabbed me in the gut, because I knew what was going to happen next. I knew I should stop it, that I shouldn't be leading Mark on when I knew it couldn't go anywhere serious. But I was Ginny Weasley. I was a sucker for things like this, and every bloke I'd ever dated in the past can testify it.

I looked into Mark's eyes and I could read every emotion in there. Desire danced among the icy blue of his eyes, with insecurity and amusement. There was no love. There hardly ever was love in a bloke's eyes, just lust. I was used to it by now - except for the last person I had kissed had shown me love in his emerald green eyes.

I knew Mark was a good kid. I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to use him. But I knew I was going to. I knew what was coming. I knew what I was going to do and I knew my answer.

"Have I told you that you looked beautiful tonight?" Mark murmured.

He was so close. I felt my breath hitch, and my heart stuttered and picked up again, faster than before. I was a sucker for love. It may not be love to him, but it was to me.

I knew I was going to get hurt. I always did.

I felt the corner of my mouth tug up into a smile, and then Mark's lips were on mine. Hesitant at first, but once I started kissing him back he gained some confidence. The kiss was simple, solid for a first kiss. But the desire between us grew, and the kiss grew more fervent, and both of us had different reasons for trying to get something out of it. I wanted to forget, I wanted to be lost in something besides the constant worry of Harry, my friends, and Quidditch tryouts coming up in a few days. Mark probably wanted sex – isn't that what most guys wanted? They never got it, though, not from me. I wasn't going to give my body up for anyone until I met the boy I'm going to marry.

I opened my mouth for Mark, and he slipped his tongue inside my mouth, deepening the kiss. I heard a low rumble in the back of his throat, and I felt my back slowly curve into the grass as Mark gently lowered me on the ground so that I was on my back and he was on top of me, never breaking the kiss. My hands tangled into his messy brown hair, and I could feel one of Mark's hands holding him above me while his other hand was running along my hair, pulling it out the elegant ponytail Summer had styled it in. My red curls tumbled out on the grass around me, and I lost myself in the feel of Mark's lips against mine.

And I had to admit, it was nice. One of the nicest snog sessions I'd ever had, and I'd had a lot of those, unfortunately. I knew Summer was going to kill me for getting dirt stains on this brand-new silky brown dress, but at that moment I couldn't really care less.

I was starting to run out of oxygen, and I could tell Mark was, too. He pulled away and leaned up on his elbows. He grinned down at me, panting, and I smiled back up at him. Mark's lips were swollen and red, and his hair was tousled and sexy. If I weren't already on the ground, I might've melted into a messy pile of Mark-O-goo.

I should've been preparing myself for Mark's speech, which I knew was going to come soon, it almost always did, but I was way too oxygen-deprived to do that. Instead, I thought of my crown-shaped chicken nuggets, and how there were two left and I was positive one was shaped like a dinosaur.

"Ginny, I – wow," said Mark breathily, raking a hand through his hair. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I've been told," I said cheekily. Mark grinned again and leaned down to place a delicate yet adorable kiss on my nose.

"This date was great," Mark began, "and all of our past incomplete dates were great. I know we've only seen each other a few times and all, and I might be being a bit too bold to be saying this, especially this soon, but I would love it if you would be my girlfriend."

I knew it. The would-you-be-my-girlfriend speech that generally followed the first kiss. Yes, I was in love with Harry and yes, I was being completely selfish by using Mark like this, but hey, what's a girl to do?

I smiled at Mark, hoping that he wouldn't notice how forced it was. "I would like that very much."

Beaming, Mark bent his head down to kiss me deeply again. We stayed like that for a while until we ran out of breath, and then Mark rolled onto the grass to lie on his back beside me. We lay there and gazed up at the stars, just talking. At some point, Mark reached over and grabbed my hand, and he didn't let go.

If I thought of Mark as the guy-friend-who-I-called-my-boyfriend-but-he-was-really-just-a-best-friend-that-I-snogged-every-now-and-then, then I didn't feel quite a guilty. I knew I could be pretty heartless the majority of the time, usually being too apathetic to feel guilty, but when it came to relationships emotions like that just ran wild. I was such a freaking romantic. It's about time I burnt that stupid romance book about this really hot vampire (I pictured him as Cedric Diggory in my head) and that human girl, because it was really giving me way too many ideas.

After a while, Mark decided it was about time to take me home. He tugged my hand to get me to stand up, and before we got back in the car we had another make-out fest, which ended in me being completely backed up against the car with Mark's fingers impossibly tangled in my hair.

Because Summer's mansion was so far away from where we were (and from everything else), it was nearing midnight by the time we reached Summer's. Since Summer lived on the far side of Hillingdon and Mark lived in Brent, I told Mark he should stay at Summer's for the night.

"No, I couldn't possibly intrude like that," Mark denied, for the seventh time.

"Mark, shut up, it's just me, Summer, and Amy."

"It's really only an hour and a half or so away from here –"

"You're going to get in a wreck and die," I argued. Mark's car was parked in Summer's driveway, and we'd been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes. "Summer has more than enough rooms for you –"

"I'd feel bad!"

"Fine, if it makes you feel any better, I'll make you sleep on the couch."

"But –"

"Stop arguing with me, Mark Hollis!" I growled.

Mark shot me a look that was part admiration, part embarrassment, and part resignation. I got out of the car, purse and heels in hand, and started walking up the sidewalk that led to the front door.

When I didn't hear Mark following me, I turned around and put my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes at the figure in the driver's seat. Though I was too far up the sidewalk to really tell, but I could practically hear Mark's sigh as he climbed out of the car. I rolled my eyes and waited until he joined me and we walked up to the front porch together.

"But I have nothing to wear," Mark said.

"So? Sleep in your boxers for all I care."

"But what about your friends?"

"Summer has seen plenty of blokes shirtless in her house," I explained, "and Amy is too sweet and innocent to even look at you."

Mark sighed again. He raked a hand through his hair, and then brought that hand down to wrap around mine. The warmth was comforting. Hand-holding was always something I loved about being in a relationship. His hand wasn't a perfect fit, but it was good enough for now. We could make it work.

I turned the doorknob, grateful that it was unlocked instead of having to risk pulling my wand out, and found the house deadly quiet. I was surprised, but it wasn't unexpected. I showed Mark to the long, wide couch in the den and tossed some blankets over his head, giggly quietly as he yanked them off and made his hair stick straight up from static. I bade him goodnight, which somehow winded up as another heated kiss, and padded upstairs. I went into my room and found a note on the bed, written in Summer's perfect bubbly handwriting.

_Ginny,_ it read,

_I know Ames and I might be asleep right now, but don't think you're escaping our questioning in the morning. And if I'm up before you and find the Sex God with you in your bed, I will scream. Loudly._

_Love ya!  
Summy_

I rolled my eyes and walked over to my desk. I flipped the piece of parchment over and dug around in the drawers until I found a Muggle pen.

_Sum and Ames,_ I wrote,

_Please do not use magic when you wake up. It's a long story, and I'll explain, I promise, but Mark is asleep on our couch downstairs. He doesn't know anything except that the word "Muggle" is from a Japanese movie called _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_… long story, again, but I'll explain! Just NO MAGIC!_

_Okay well I'm tired so I'll see you two in the morning! _

_P.S. Tell Splinty to make pancakes, I've been craving some! Ask him if he could make them into the shape of a crown. Or maybe a swordfish. Or a dinosaur. That'd be great._

_Love you girls!  
__Gin_

I conjured up some tape and walked across the hall to hang it on Summer's door. I charmed it to flash bright orange when she woke up, just to make sure she'd see it. If she didn't see it, then so help me, Merlin.

I walked back to my room and changed into pajamas. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and threw my hair into a messy, curly bun. I climbed under the covers, thinking back over the night. I thought of Harry's face as he met Mark at the restaurant, and wondered what that meant. I knew I was an expert on most guys, but Harry wasn't "most guys." Mark wasn't either.

Why is it that when I have my mind set on one bloke who is absolutely-amazing-beyond-words-perfect, another one who is almost as great just waltzes into my life at the exact same time? Was the world _trying_ to spite me?

I rolled over onto my stomach and groaned into my pillows.

Yes, my good-for-nothing brain told me. Yes, it was.

* * *

A/N: Well, if there are random words missing from this chapter I'm really sorry... things kept messing up...

Eh. The world's out to get me.

Songs: Six Feet Under the Stars - All Time Low; The Fourth Drink Instinct - Cute Is What We Aim For; Say When - The Fray; Shiver - Maroon 5; In My Place - Coldplay

It would be WONDERFUL if yall **review**ed... I should have over 100 reviews by now. Just saying. Maybe Twilight fics are just more popular or something? Come on, Harry Potter fans, you can do better than this! You're part of the BIGGEST book franchise EVER (besides the Bible, of course)

This is what this story looked like during HPFF's April Fool's joke (gah, those are always hysterical):  
_Jack the Ripper yelled something about not having his pipe, and [Sherlock] yelled something about how he should _always_ have his pipe. I backed out of the stifingly hot kitchen and into the basement to rescue Irene Adler.  
_I don't know why I found that so funny, but I couldn't stop laughing. HPFF sure knows how to make a good prank. Everyone was so freaked. It was great.


	12. Say When

**A/N: **there's no author's note at the bottom this time (because the ending was dramatic and I didn't want to spoil it) so I'm going to say everything up here.

1.) Sorry sorry sorry this took so long. I'll be writing A LOT more since school's out tomorrow and it'll be summer yeeeeeeeeee! see ya later, sophomore year! you suck!  
2.) the "s" key on my keyboard is doing something really weird, so if any word is randomly missing the letter "s", I'm sorry. Also, if this chapter doesn't flow well, let me know in a review and I'll see what I can do to fix it! I'm always open to yalls advice.  
3.) Songs: Sleeping To Dream (Live) - Jason Mraz; Tiffany Blews - Fall Out Boy; Half of My Heart - John Mayer; Come In With the Rain - Taylor Swift; Teasing to Please - Cute Is What We Aim For (all of these songs really do go great with this chapter, so go look them up! The title of this story, _Poison & Wine_, also applies perfectly here so that's why I added the lyrics at the bottom!)  
4.) JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Enjoy the chapter, even if it's super cheesy and not exactly funny, and review please!  
5.) My best friend Josh made my Subway sandwich that I'm eating right now! Good job Joshie, it's the best sandwich I've ever had! ...

* * *

_Come close and then even closer_  
_We bring it in but we go no further_  
_We're separate,_  
_Two ghosts in one mirror, no nearer_  
-Say When - The Fray

* * *

"Ginny…"

"Go away."

"Giiiiiiiiinny!"

"Eff you."

"Ginevra Weasley!"

"I hate you."

"Would you hate me if I told you we had dinosaur-shaped pancakes downstairs?"

"Yes," I lied. I untangled myself from my mass of thick blankets and stared blearily at Amy as she sat perched at the end of my bed. She beamed innocently at me and I grumbled incoherently in reply. All I wanted to do was sleep. Was that too much to ask for?

I glanced at the clock on the bed stand, and noted that it was half past nine. I moaned. I was exhausted, and my head was pounding.

"What do you want?" I mumbled to Amy, squeezing my eyes shut and tossing the covers back over my head.

"Nothing much," Amy replied. "I just wanted to let you know that Mark is really attractive."

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn't see me. "Thanks, Ames. I hadn't noticed."

"_Someone_'s grouchy this morning," Amy commented lightly.

"_Someone_'s about to get punched in the face," I growled.

I heard Amy sigh. "Get up, Gin. We really do have dinosaur pancakes for you."

"Thanks."

"Summer wanted eggs, but I convinced Splinty to make your pancakes. You better be grateful."

I yanked the blankets off my face to give Amy a smile-slash-grimace thing that was meant to convey my gratitude. She seemed to understand, and she rose from the edge of my bed with a grin.

Amy walked out of my room and shut the door, giving me my privacy. I exhaled noisily, trying to ignore the pounding in my head. A few more hours of sleep would have been spectacular, but once I was up I couldn't slip back into unconsciousness, no matter how much I wished I could.

I was mildly annoyed at Amy for waking me up, but I was thankful that it had been her instead of Summer. With Summer, there was always the risk of her jumping on one of your limbs and breaking a bone. It had happened before: Kaitlyn Peters, one of our old roommates, would testify to that.

Grumbling exasperatedly into thin air, I hoisted myself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. I undressed quickly and jumped into the shower, mentally preparing myself for a long day. I made myself a tentative agenda for the day in my head.

First and foremost, I would have to get some pancakes. If they weren't shaped like dinosaurs like Amy had promised, I would cry.

Secondly, I knew I would have to tell Summer and Amy about my date with Mark, and I would have to give them a play-by-play of every detail. It wasn't very difficult for me to recall the events of the night: the long car ride, the fancy restaurant, the company. The part that stood out the most – the part with Harry – wasn't something I particularly wanted to share with the girls. In a way, I kind of wanted to keep that event to myself. It felt too intimate to share, and I didn't want Summer and Amy to think I didn't like Mark or something just because I remembered the part about Harry the best. Because I did like Mark. A lot. If I didn't like him, would I have agreed to be his girlfriend? No. Would I have told him to spend the night downstairs? No. I would tell my best friends everything they wanted to know about Mark, but I would keep the whole Harry ordeal out of it. I _had_ to keep the whole Harry ordeal out of it. Or else too many questions would be asked and I would go mad.

Thirdly, I needed to practice Quidditch. Tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies were in four days and there would be some serious skill there to audition. I needed to be practicing nonstop in order to be on the same level as some of the other women trying out, and I knew there was no way I would be as good as the other two Chasers on the team. I'd be lucky if I even made the reserve team.

But what the hell. It was all about confidence, and Merlin knows I've got enough of _that_.

I finished my shower and charmed my hair dry. Dressing in some blue-jean shorts and a t-shirt, I shambled downstairs to get some dino-cakes (my abbreviated version of dinosaur-shaped-pancakes).

"...So you kissed her?" I heard Summer's voice ask as I padded through the living room to get to the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah," Mark's voice replied awkwardly.

"Did you like it?"

"Er…"

"So you two are offish?"

"We're what?"

"Offish. Like, official."

"I guess…" Mark said uncomfortably. "I mean, she agreed to be my girlfriend, if that's what you mean."

I could practically feel the beams coming from Summer's grin as I rounded into the kitchen. Mark was sitting at the island on a stool next to Amy. Summer stood across from them on the other side, smiling hugely like a cat.

"Sum, wipe that grin off your face, would you?" I asked as I walked in the room. All three of them turned around to look at me. "You're giving me the creeps."

"Sorry," said Summer, not sounding sorry in the least. "I'm just trying to get some deets, since _you _weren't around to give me any."

"I was asleep…"

"Exactly."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Whatever. Where are my pancakes?"

"Right here," Amy said, gesturing to a plate sitting on the island. "Help yourself."

Why, thank you Amy. I planned to.

I walked over to the island and stood between Mark and Amy, grabbing a plate and piling it up with pancakes shaped like dinosaurs. It was like heaven, all these dino-cakes. I picked up the syrup and drowned all my pancakes in it, taking pleasure in the fact that all the meanie dinosaurs were dying and weren't going to come alive and eat all my friends with their huge dino-teethies.

…I was in an imaginative mood this morning, okay? DON'T JUDGE.

"Good morning, Ginny," Mark said as I picked up my plate and began to step away from the island.

"'Morning, Mark," I replied with a smile. I shifted my body a little to the side so I could look at him better. His hair was a bit messed up and his smile was adorably lopsided, like he was too lazy to manage a full smile this early in the morning. Gah, he was just so hot. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than well, actually," he told me. He reached out to grab me around my waist. I let him draw me closer to him, setting my plate down again on the island in the process. "I dreamed about you."

"Hmmm," I said. I put my hands on his shoulders and he pulled me in between his legs, his hands resting weightlessly on my hips. He kind of looked at me for a second, and then he smiled. It wa lucky Mark was holding onto my waist, or else my knees would have collapsed from under me.

Summer and Amy were watching Mark and I interact, and I felt kind of awkward that they were witnessing something that was so undeniably intimate. As if reading my mind, Summer turned to Amy and said, "Maybe we should go…" Amy nodded her agreement, and the two of them left Mark and I alone in the kitchen.

Once the kitchen door had shut behind them, I said in a somewhat suggestive tone, "Well, now that we're all by ourselves..." But I trialed off because I knew for a fact that we were technically not alone. Summer and Amy were, undoubtedly, pressing their ears against the kitchen door and trying to hear what Mark and I were saying. But that was okay. I was used to it by now.

"Now that we're all by ourselves?" Mark repeated, raising his eyebrows and squeezing my waist with his hands.

"Hmm." I shifted my weight so I could lean closer to Mark's face. I used one hand to move my fingers up from his shoulder to his neck to his ear, and began to gently play with his hair there. "Do you want to know what _I _dreamed about last night?" I asked quietly.

Mark let out a breath as I leaned in and brushed my nose along Mark's sharp cheekbones. I felt him nod.

"Well, it was quite a lovely dream," I told him, drawing my nose across his jaw and stopping at his lips, "and I'll give you three guesses as to what it was about." I let my breath fan across his face before I kissed him lightly on his lips. But of course, with Mark and I being... Mark and I, what began as a light kiss ended up with his tongue knocking against my lips, asking me for entrance. I denied his unspoken question and pulled away, smirking. "It was about dinosaur pancakes."

I danced out of Mark's grip on my waist and moved out from between his legs, grabbing my plate of dino-cakes and walking over to the adjacent table.

"That's not fair," Mark said huffily.

"Life's not fair," I replied easily, taking a seat and stabbing a syrup-covered T-Rex with my fork.

"You're a little minx, you know that?"

I popped the dino-cake into my mouth. I chewed slowly, swallowed, and smirked. "I've been told."

"Right." Mark got off his stool with a roll of his eyes, moving to sit in the chair beside me at the table. I used his position to my advantage and put my feet in his lap.

"Foot massage?" I asked him, giving him my best puppy-dog expression.

He mockingly (I think) looked disgustedly at my feet and threw them off his lap. He made a revolted sound in his throat and scoffed, "You wish. To get _my_ foot massages, you have to pay the price."

"Uhhh," I said intelligently. I frowned. "All I have to offer are dinosaur-shaped pancakes."

"A kiss would work just fine."

I pretended to think. "Hmm. Okay."

I leaned in slowly like I was about to kiss his lips. Mark's eyes fluttered closed, and right before my lips touched his, I hesitated and grinned. Then I moved up to kiss his nose instead, and his eyes flew open.

"Paid," I said simply, throwing my feet back into his lap. Mark narrowed his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed, grasping one of my feet in his hands. "But you're now in debt."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. "I'm always in debt." I'm a Weasley. I mean, come on. Poor is to Weasley as Fag is to Malfoy.

See? I can apply analogies into my everyday life. That just shows how awesome I am.

I picked up my fork and began to eat again as Mark rubbed my feet. Honestly, I don't think I've been this happy in about two years. I've got a sex god giving me a foot massage, some dinosaur pancakes, and my two best friends in the whole wide world are standing outside with their ears pressed against the kitchen door. What more could a girl need? Oh, yeah, I guess I could use Harry Potter here, as well. But since he was otherwise occupied with his little slut, I suppose Mark would do. Since Mark was pretty much just as good. I guess.

Stop. Bad Ginny. You love Mark. Except not really. You love Harry. Except you can't. Because he's taken and so are you. Except not really. Because you know that you and Harry both don't really love the people they're with. But it would never work out with him. So you might as well give up now. Except you can't.

"I like it here," Mark commented. I looked away from my soggy mass of pancakes to stare at his highly attractive face.

"What do you mean?"

"This place is cool. Whose house is this again?"

"Summer's."

"Right." Mark looked down at my foot he was rubbing. "She kind of freaks me out."

"Yeah, she does that at first," I said, trying not to laugh. "She'll get used to you though, you just have to give her time."

"Amy's really nice."

I laughed. "Yeah. She's the one who keeps me and Summer in line. I don't know where I'd be without her."

"She just seems…" Mark trailed off as he tried to find the right adjective to use to describe Amy. "She seems genuinely nice. Like she'd never do anything to hurt anyone."

"She wouldn't," I responded, poking a pterodactyl-shaped pancake with my fork. "Ever. Just don't give her any rum, she'll go berserk."

Mark laughed and was quiet for a moment. He finished rubbing my foot and switched to the other one.

"Hey, Ginny," he began, "if I asked you something, don't think it's super creepy, all right?"

Uhhhhhh…. "All right," I replied, a little apprehensively. "What is it?"

"Well, I was just wondering how you got your hair dried so fast," Mark said quickly. "I mean, I heard the shower running, and then only a few minutes later you were in the kitchen. You have a lot of hair, too, so I know it should have taken you a while to blow it dry…"

Crap. Sticky situation, STICKY SITUATION! CODE RED CODE RED!

"Er… I, er, didn't wash my hair," I lied hastily. "I tried to keep it from getting wet… because it's such a hassle to dry!"

Yes.

"Oh, okay," said Mark, looking adorably embarrassed. "I didn't mean to sound like a creep or anything."

I laughed. "You didn't, I promise. I've experienced much creepier questions from people I don't like as much as you." People like Blaise Zambini, but I didn't mention that.

Mark kind of looked confused but when he said, "Oh. Well, that's good, I suppose," I assumed he understood.

But the whole hair thing, that was close. If I have one more slip-up I might as well give Mark a pointy hat and a thin branch and call him a Squib. Mark couldn't know about me being a witch. What would he think of me when he found out? Granted, that wasn't exactly the most important thing I was keeping from him at present, but I still didn't want him to think I was a freak because I could turn a pinecone into a parrot within a matter of seconds. Which was, I guess, kind of freaky. But Mark would get used to it, if I told him. He might even think it was cool. But I would never know how he would react, because I never planned on telling him.

Mark finished massaging my feet just after I finished my plate of dino-cakes.

"Done!" he announced.

"Meeeeeeee too!" I exclaimed. I stood up to put my plate in the sink and Mark stood up as well. He stretched his back out and I could hear joints popping. Gross.

"Sounds like _you_ could use a massage," I said with a grin. I shifted to lean my back against the counter and folded my arms.

"Me?" Mark twisted his torso left to right and I heard more joints crack. The sound made me cringe. I knew that Healing was something I was interested in and that I would hear sounds much worse than someone purposely cracking their back (like the sound of my brother's vomit hitting the bottom of a bucket… but I wouldn't think about that right now), but it still wasn't something pleasant to listen to and I would try to avoid it whenever I could. "Nah. But if you're willing, I'd be more than happy to let you massage it for me."

Mark raised his eyebrows suggestively and I almost blushed. Almost. Mark's icy blue eyes were sparkling and I pretended to glare at him for being immature, but I didn't hold out of long. He was just too darn cute to be fake-mad at.

Mark chuckled and raked a hand through his already-messy-as-hell hair. "I should probably go," he said.

I frowned for a moment before I bounded across the kitchen and leaped into his arms. He was so caught off guard that he almost dropped me, but he caught me in time and slid my feet gently to the floor. I captured his lips in mine and kissed him deep and slow, like we had both been wanting to do for the whole morning.

"Hurry back," I told him after I pulled away, a little breathlessly.

"You really want me to come back?" Mark asked.

"Why not?" I said. "Do you have anywhere better to be?"

"Not really. I'm off work for the next two weeks."

"Why?"

"Dunno," Mark answered honestly. "They just told me that this time of year was really slow and that they didn't need me." He shrugged.

"Oh. Well, that's good. More time for me, I suppose."

Mark grinned and kissed me again. "Exactly."

I wanted to kiss him again, since kissing was among my favorite things to do after play Quidditch and stalk Harry (just kidding) (but not really), but I knew that if I did Mark would never leave. So I smiled and took his hand and led him to the front door. We went out and I helped Mark settle into his car. He rolled the window down and kissed me once more.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Mark promised. "If that's okay."

"That is more than okay." I smiled.

"Are you sure Summer won't mind if I'm always at her house?" he joked.

"Eh. If she does mind, I'll take care of it, don't worry." And by "take care of it," I meant that she'll get some giant bogeys attacking her face. Maybe worse. It just depended on my mood.

"If you're sure…" Mark started the car and grinned at me. I think my heart stopped beating for a second, and it was all I could do to nod at him. He chuckled slightly, said goodbye, and drove off.

I made my way back to the house in a daze, still a teeny bit overwhelmed by Mark's gorgeousness. Gah. I was getting soft. Pathetic.

Of course Summer and Amy were waiting to pounce when I walked into the lounge.

"Spill!" Summer commanded.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"Where did you go?"

"This place called _Le Genou au l'Abeille_," I said. "Mark's grandfather, dad, and uncle painted the inside, and it was so beautiful! There was a swordfish!" I added excitedly.

"What did you order?"

"White wine. Mark got red."

"Red wine!" Summer exclaimed. "It's a sign!"

"What are you on about?" Amy demanded.

"The sex gods have blessed you with their right-hand man!"

"Er, alright," I said. "I'm going to pretend like that made sense and continue with my story."

"Do that," said Summer.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Anyway, all we had ordered was our wine when–" When Harry, Meredith, Ron, and Hermione showed up. When Harry blew up Mark's wine. When Harry had the nerve to meet my eye and smirk.

"When…?" Amy pressed. "What happened then?"

Everything. "Nothing," I said instead. "We just decided that the fancy place wasn't really our style, since we met in a bar and all, and we got Burger King instead. The woman there sassed me big-time, so I hexed her."

Amy gasped. "Please tell me no one saw you!"

"Don't worry, no one was watching me. We took our fast food to this beautiful cliff Mark knew of that looked over the city and was so close to the stars I could almost touch them! It was –" I stopped myself from saying "It was magical," because that sounded way too cheesy and was where I drew the gush-line. I had gushed enough lately, and I just didn't gush. Ever. I was Ginny Weasley, and I had a reputation to uphold! So instead I said, "It was pretty cool."

Summer looked to the ceiling in exasperation, knowing that I had changed my sentence at the last second but being too used to it to care. "When did he ask you to be his girlfriend?"

"After our first kiss."

"When did he kiss you?"

"After he told me I looked beautiful."

"When did he tell you that you looked beautiful?"

"After I found a chicken nugget shaped like a sword-fish."

Amy sighed. "Typical Ginny," she said affectionately. I grinned at her.

Summer refused to be distracted. "So what happened after you said yes to being his girlfriend?"

"We kissed again. For a long time."

"Why was he on my couch this morning?" Summer demanded to know in an accusatory tone.

"Because he took me home late and he lived too far away. I figured you wouldn't mind."

"I didn't."

"So what's the problem?"

Summer regarded me with shrewd eyes. "Are you in love with him?"

"No," I answered honestly. Then I decided that sounded bad, so I added, "Not yet."

"Have you told him you love him?"

"No. We've only been together for a day. Less than a day, actually. That's not enough time for me to fall in love with someone."

"And around – oh, I don't know – eight years_ is_ enough time?"

I frowned. "What are getting at?"

Summer's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. "Answer this honestly, Ginny: Are you in love with Harry Potter?"

Shit. How could she know? How did Summer know? Did that mean everyone knew? Did that mean Harry knew? Because that would suck. Did that mean Mark knew? Because that would suck even worse. Mark could never know. He could never know that I was using him to make Harry jealous, and was treating him like a toy for me to play with while I waited for the real prize. I felt awful for doing it, but I was so selfish that I couldn't stop. I was in too deep now, there was no going back. I was successfully teasing and flirting and driving Mark crazy, and I was thoughtlessly playing around with Mark's affections as though they didn't matter. They _did _matter, but I was so caught up in my own twisted, sick little games that I don't even notice. I knew that things would continue on that way until I made some kind of effort to change them. To Mark, my entire life was a lie. I couldn't ever let him see the real me, and that's putting aside the whole "Hey, I'm a witch!" affair. I couldn't ever let _anyone_ see the real me, not even Summer and Amy. How could anyone still want to be my friend when they realized how selfish I was? And not just about Mark, but about everything? I couldn't remember the last time I had given instead of taken. I even flirted in self-interest. I didn't honestly care about whatever bloke I was with. I was in love with Harry, and it wouldn't ever change – the flirting just came naturally, thoughtlessly. I usually didn't even notice myself doing it half the time. I knew I did it to Mark constantly, and I knew I should stop, but I just couldn't.

I had so much experience with the male species that I knew every trick in the book and more, but Mark didn't know that. He didn't _need_ to know that. Actually, there were a lot of things Mark didn't need to know. He didn't need to know that he barely held a candle to Harry. He didn't need to know that all my dreams were consumed with Harry and that every other thought that passes through my mind has to do with Harry. How could anyone compare with Harry, ever? Even Mark? Harry has barely escaped death on multiple occasions and has lived every time. He has saved the entire world, not just the Wizarding community, over and over again. He gave up his life to save not only his friends but also complete strangers. He's the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a century. He's an International Quidditch player, a teenage heartthrob to females of all ages, and a nineteen-year-old prodigy. Harry didn't just _make_ history, he _is_ history. And Summer actually has to ask me if I was in love with Harry Potter?

Yes. Yes, Summer, I am completely, madly, voraciously, totally, impeccably, avidly, flawlessly, fervently, absolutely, irreversibly, recklessly, and desperately, oh-so-desperately, in love with Harry Potter.

"No," I said instead. I kept my face completely blank, determined not to show how much it stabbed at my heart to lie not only to my friends also but to myself. With only one word, I was betraying everyone I cared about. But I was in too deep, there was no going back. "No, I am not."

* * *

_Oh, your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine  
You think your dreams are the same as mine  
Oh, I don't love you but I always will  
__-_Posion and Wine - the Civil Wars


	13. So Late So Sorry

Happy 5th of July! Midnight premiere of HP7P2 in 9 days!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter

*The Switchblade Kittens and The Basilisk In Your Pasta are real Wizard Rock bands and I do not own anything mentioned about them.  
*I also don't claim to have any affiliation with anything to do with _That 70's Show_.  
*Nor do I claim any line from AVPM or AVPS. This story is loaded with refrences from those babies...

* * *

_I can be anything you want baby, you have to pay the price  
__I'll do whatever you say, without thinking twice  
__You may think you know everything about me  
__But I swear that you don't_

-So Late So Sorry – Hello Hollywood

* * *

"Um, I have to go," I said, quickly getting to my feet and rushing out the door. I didn't even care about what Summer and Amy were thinking right now: I just had to get away. I practically ran outside and turned on the spot, Apparating to the first place that came into my head.

I found myself in some woods that looked familiar, and when I took a few steps forward I knew exactly where I was and exactly why this was the first thing on my mind.

The modern angles of Harry's massive lake house cut into the forest, and I wandered out of the trees and into the bright light of Sunshine Lake to get a better look at it. I was here only days ago, but it felt like it had been so long ago. So much had happened since then.

I felt like a complete creep being here all by myself, with no particular reason except for the need for space. What if Harry was here and saw me creeping around in his backyard? That would suck. But judging by the abandoned look of the house right now, I assumed Harry wasn't home. He probably had Quidditch practice or something. International Quidditch Players had to practice _sometime_, didn't they?

My feet shuffled toward the dock without the okay from my brain. How could I possibly concentrate on where to move my feet when there was so many other things to concentrate on? Harry, Mark, myself, my friends, Harpies tryouts in FOUR DAYS, Harry some more, Mark some more…

Wind blew past and made my hair whack my face, so I pulled it back into a ponytail and took the final steps off the bridge and onto the dock. I rounded the corner where the boats were, intending to sit on the edge of the dock and stick my feet in the water and give myself a personality check, but I stopped short. Someone was already sitting on the edge of the dock, and I'd be damned if I told myself it wasn't who I thought it was. The shock of messy black hair was unmistakable.

Harry whipped his head around at the sound of my approach, leaping to his feet and drawing his wand out in the same movement. Shocked, I raised my hands up in a peaceful gesture, guilt coloring my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly as Harry's defensive expression relaxed and confusion took its place. "I didn't think anyone would be here, and I just had to get away from Summer's because she was making me uncomfortable, and this is just the first place I thought of." When Harry just continued to stare at me, I kept on babbling just to fill the tremendously awkward silence. My words came out rushed – I wouldn't be surprised if Harry couldn't understand me at all. "Honestly, I thought I was alone. Even though it's really rude to just come to your lake house even if I _was_ alone and you'd never found out, but I'm not alone and you're here and I'm really sorry I frightened you. But I'm not a Death Eater I promise! Okay. Well, this is awkward…"

I trailed off and looked at my feet. Whyyyyyyy did I always make myself sound like a complete twat when I was around Harry? Gah. And I wished I had thought to put on something nicer than my stupid Switchblade Kittens t-shirt that I got at their Wrock concert three summers ago, but it was obviously too late for that now.

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times like he couldn't decide what he wanted to say. Finally, he seemed to settle on, "You like the Switchblade Kittens?"

I kind of blinked at him and gave him my best "WTF" look. I nodded slowly. Harry already knew my favorite band was the Switchblade Kittens, he's known it for years.

Harry coughed and stuck his wand back in his pocket. "Cool. Meredith likes them, too."

"Uh, that's neat," I said.

"Yeah. I personally prefer The Basilisk In Your Pasta."

"I know."

"Oh yeah."

Alright. Well. If this got any more awkward, I was going to do something stupid. Like dry-clean Amy's cat.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I just had a lot to think about and this was honestly the first place I thought of."

Harry smiled a little bit, but it wasn't real. He was just being polite. "Yeah, I heard you say that… even though it was kind of hard to understand you, especially when you talk that fast."

"Sorry."

Harry really did smile then, showing his teeth and everything. My heart stopped beating for a moment. "It's alright," he said, "I come here to think a lot, too. That's what I'm doing now, actually."

"I didn't mean to intrude," I said apologetically. I started backing up. "I suppose I'll be off now."

Harry sighed. "Ginny, don't be stupid. You can stay." He flashed me a smile and my knees nearly buckled. I stopped walking when Harry lowered himself back onto the dock and stuck his feet back in the water.

When I didn't move, Harry turned to look at me and patted the dock beside him, indicating he wanted me to sit next to him. It seemed like a crime to turn around and leave, so I hesitantly walked forward to sit beside him.

I kicked off my flip-flops and lowered myself onto the dock. I stuck my feet in the sun-warmed water, flipping my hair over my shoulder and leaning back on my hands. I let out a noisy breath and looked out on the lake, loving the way the sun was reflecting on the rippling water below. I knew I had to go back to Summer's sometime soon since Mark was going to come over again (stupid idea, what was I thinking), but I was perfectly content here, at the lake, with Harry at my side.

The silence between Harry and I was awkward, but I'm sure the discomfited quiet was only on my part. I really wished that that good-for-nothing brain of mine would come up with something more intelligent to say than "sooooo," but it seemed that was the only thing I could come up with, so that's what I said.

"Sooooo," I said. Ooooh. Clever, Ginny. Real clever.

THINK THINK THINK.

Harry's so gorgeous.

GAAAAAAAAAH.

"Look, Ginny," Harry started suddenly. I was waiting for him to say something along the lines of: _I want you to know that I ditched Meredith Slut-For-Brains for you and now we can live happily together forever. Yay! Let us eat cake! _But instead of that, much to my chagrin, Harry said, "I want you to know that what I did to your date last night was unacceptable behavior on my part. You know how it goes, that need to protect you just kicked in and I did the first thing that I knew to do. I'm sorry if I messed up your evening, really, I am. But I've got to keep my best friend's baby sister safe from the mean boys with cooties, don't I?"

Harry laughed to himself and smirked at me. I glared. "Best friend's baby sister?" Was that really all he saw me as? As much as Harry might want to tell himself that, I knew just by the way he stared at my body in my bikini that he definitely saw me as more than his "best friend's baby sister." But, you know, whatever helps him sleep at night, I suppose…

"What?" Harry asked as I kept glaring at him. "You're not going to hex me, are you?"

I raised one eyebrow (feeling very proud of myself after I stood in front of a mirror for five hours a few boring days ago to master the skill) and didn't answer. I hoped I was freaking Harry out, making him squirm. Or, you know, making myself look constipated again with my failure at one-eyebrow-raising.

"Stop that," Harry ordered. "You're kind of scaring me. I'm sorry for ruining your date, okay!"

I raised both eyebrows now, surprised. "Oh, you didn't ruin it," I told Harry, probably childishly. "You made it better."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Geez, lots of eyebrow-raising going on here. The mental image I get from that is a creepy man with a dupont mustache raising his eyebrows twice really fast in a suggestive way, like a complete child molester.

…Merlin, I needed a hobby. Or at least a dog.

"Care to explain?" Harry asked. He laughed in an attempt to make himself sound nonchalant, but I knew him so well that I could hear the burning curiosity behind his words. "Because if that made your night better, than I'll blow up some wine more often."

I laughed. It sounded slightly bitter and hollow to me, but I hoped Harry didn't catch that. I was trying to rub this in his face, and I wanted to do it successfully. Go big or go home. "No, silly!" I said. "We left after that, and enjoyed a delicious fattening dinner under the stars. That's where Mark asked me to be his girlfriend!" I laughed again – it was more of a giggle, if I was being honest – and hoped that I was making Harry feel uncomfortable. "So what I'm getting at is, if you hadn't blown up Mark's wine last night, I'm sure he wouldn't have asked me anything important at all! You just pushed us into the perfect place, and it just felt so _right_ for Mark to ask me there. I'm sure it wouldn't have been as special if he had asked in the restaurant."

So what, I hammed it up a little bit. What's life without a little bullshit though, eh?

Hmmm. I like that. It'll be my new motto. Someone will undoubtedly ask me _Ginny Weasley, what is your life motto?_ and I'll tell them _What's life without a little bullshit?_

This is great! Life mottos always make my life better. I guess. I've never really had a life motto, though, so I wouldn't exactly know… Okay, I've got to focus. Harry. Right.

Harry had managed something that vaguely resembled a smile, but it looked very similar to a scowl. Well, whatever expression it was, it looked super sexy on him. Only Harry could pull off a face that unattractive. Gah. Why was he so perfect at everything?

"Well, I'm glad I could help out," Harry said.

He was even perfect with his pretend-to-be-happy-for-you voice! If he was really pretending. Which I'm sure he was. Right?

Ugh. I had to stop thinking Harry wanted me like I wanted him, because he obviously didn't. He probably was happy for me: being in a relationship meant I was out of his hair. Gah. Prick.

"Yeah," I said, forcing my smile to stretch out even more. I probably looked really demented. I decided to change the subject. "Okay, well this has sufficiently been the most awkward conversation I've ever had…"

Harry let out a short laugh and looked at me. "Why do you always do that?" he asked suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Just say things like that. Saying that something is awkward just makes it more awkward."

"I live for awkward moments," I pointed out. Well, I better live for awkward moments – I was in them all the freaking time. Hell, I was in one now.

Harry laughed his beautiful laugh. "Only you could pull off saying things bluntly like that without getting punched in the face."

"My apologies for not having manners?" I said, my statement coming out like a question. Was he complimenting me, or insulting me?

"No, no, that's not what I'm trying to say. Instead of being rude, it's hysterical." Harry made a confused expression as he tried to find the words to say in order to explain. "Remember that time you were sitting with us in the common room and your roommate Ella Duncan came up and asked you if her robes made her look fat?"

I thought for a moment. "No."

"Oh, well, she did. And you just looked at her, squinted your eyes and told her yes. Ron and I about died trying to hold in our laughter."

Umm. "I don't remember this happening?" Surely I wasn't that mean to sweet little Ella!

"Well, it happened. You told her instead to instead put on some too-long blue robes she apparently had and ask your friend Summer to hem them for her."

"How come you remember this event better than I do?"

"Because it was hysterical!"

"Honestly, Harry," I said, "when are you going to realize that I'm really _not_ as funny as you think I am?"

"But you _are_!" Harry argued, his green eyes dancing.

You know, that's a phrase I use all the time in my head but never actually understood. How do eyes dance? Do my peepers just decide to grab a pole, rip off their clothes and decide to put on a show? Because as weird as that mental image is, that's what comes to mind.

And I repeat: I NEEDED A HOBBY. Something is seriously wrong with me.

I just rolled my eyes at Harry and kicked my feet around in the lake so that the water splashed all around my lower legs. Circe, I was so pale. I wondered what I would look like if I got a tan – probably great. I always looked great.

…Except for when I make myself look stupid. Then I just look stupid.

"I wish I could do what you do," Harry commented lightly, looking out at the lake. Boats were running across the water and making the dock shake, but it was peaceful. It was also very _hot_. July in the UK was sweltering! But then again, so was I. I was hot, like the sun.

That was really cheesy. But whatever. It got my point across.

"What is it exactly that I do?"

"Just say what's on your mind, and not care about what other people think about it."

"Well, you know," I said, "I call 'em like I see 'em."

Harry smiled at me. If I weren't already as hot as the sun, I'd be a big melted puddle that ran into the lake by now. It's not legal to look as good as Harry does.

It was quiet for a moment while Harry and I kicked our feet around, staring out at the water and listening to the sounds of the deck rocking back and forth as the water crashed against it. Harry was _so close_ to me again. Why didn't I feel like this when Mark was this close? This is the feeling I _should_ get when he's near, but it's not. With Mark, I didn't have to _force_ myself to keep my hands to myself. It was all I could do not to reach out and touch Harry. I clenched my hands that were supporting me on the dock into fists, and the movement caught Harry's attention.

"So, would you like to talk about it?" he asked, glancing down at my fisted hands. "The reason you're here, creeping around my lake house, I mean."

"Erm, not really…" I replied. I looked down at my feet, broken by the water, just to avoid Harry's stare.

"Is something wrong?"

Ugh. Why did that question sound so familiar…?

And then I remembered that night on this very dock, exactly a week ago, when I admitted to myself that I loved Harry. I had come down by the water to think and had found Harry here. I had asked him if something was wrong and he had said… oh, what was it he had said?

"You wouldn't understand," I told Harry, recalling exactly what he had told me in response to the very same question. "It's complicated."

Harry seemed to remember himself saying that, too, because what he said next was exactly what I had told him.

"You can talk to me, you know that, right, Ginny?" he said. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or if he was being sincere. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. The space his hand was placed was tingling. Stupid Harry. Stupid hormones. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I rolled my eyes at Harry in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner and, as much as I didn't want to, shoved his hand off my shoulder with a laugh.

"Okay, okay, fine," I conceded. "I'll tell you what's wrong if you don't go so mushy on me next time."

Harry agreed to my terms, laughing, and I thought about what I was going to say. I wasn't going to lie to the bane of my existence (not really) (but kind of), but I couldn't exactly tell him that _he_ was my problem – I'm pretty positive that conversation would not go over well, and I'm pretty positive it wouldn't end with my _yay-let-us-eat-cake_ scenario.

"It's just, this whole Quidditch thing is really stressing me out," I finally admitted. Not the whole truth, but hey, it works, right? This totally goes with my new life motto (you know, the one about bullshit). This is great. "I mean, Harpies try-outs are in four days, and I just got a boyfriend yesterday. I don't know if that's going to make the whole situation worse, or what.

"And what am I supposed to tell Mark, my Muggle boyfriend, when I have to leave to go to practice?" I concluded. "He'll definitely ask questions, and I'm not ready for him to know I'm a witch. He'll probably think I'm a freak if I tell him."

"Sounds like you have a serious dilemma," Harry said seriously. He stroked his chin with his hand – dramatically, of course, Harry didn't _actually_ do that – thinking to himself. "Here's my solution: don't date a Muggle. You could do so much better, Ginny!"

"Oh really?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "And who do you have in mind?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times, making him look like a moronic goldfish. He made it look cute. Like, why can't _I _do that? I would just look stupid. I wanted to laugh at him, but I controlled the urge. No worries.

"I used to have a huge crush on Cedric Diggory," I commented stupidly. I had forgotten that Cedric was a touchy subject for Harry, but like the idiot I was, I kept talking. "Is he good enough? He was a Hufflepuff, you know, and Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders." I felt Harry staring at me, and I knew I should shut up, but I couldn't. This would be a great example of how my brain is hardly ever present. "I think that's why he got to the Cup the same time as you – he was such a good finder!"

I was in hot water now. I glanced at Harry's face and saw him grimacing. Crap…

"Ummm," I mumbled. "Too soon?"

Harry nodded and I frowned apologetically. Harry offered me a small smile, so I knew I was forgiven.

We sat in silence again for a while, until I found the nerve to ask, "Sooooooo, do _you_ want to talk about it? Why you're here to think?"

Harry was quiet for a short pause while he mused over what he was going to say. "I'm having… money problems," he admitted hesitantly.

I couldn't help myself – I snorted. "Money problems? You?"

Harry blinked at me blankly.

"You're _Harry freakin' Potter_," I pointed out. "You're probably the richest person in the Wizarding World."

"Well, not exactly…" Harry said modestly, but he knew I was right.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Here's my solution: stop spending money."

"It's not that simple."

"_How_ is it not that simple?"

"It's not _me_ who's spending the money."

"Then who is?" If he says Meredith, then so help me Merlin…

"Well, I _kind of_ gave Meredith access to my vault at Gringotts."

I rolled my eyes. "Harry, that's probably the stupidest fucking thing you've ever done."

Harry let out a short breath and stared balefully at me.

"Alright, alright," I backtracked. "Just tell Meredith to stop spending money." OBVIOUSLY.

"I have!" Harry said. "We've fought about it before. And it's not just Meredith."

As happy as I was to hear that Harry and Meredith fought, I was so confused. "What?"

"A lot of the money Meredith is taking is being spent by Meredith's twin sister, Morgan."

"Hold on a second," I said. "There are TWO OF THEM?"

Harry shrugged casually. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure you've probably met her – she was at the party last week. Actually, most of the people at the party were Morgan's friends."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down." My head was reeling. I could barely stand _one_ Bludgers-For-Brains – how the hell could Harry put up with _two_? "Meredith has a _twin_?"

"Yeah." Harry seemed bored with the topic of conversation. "They look exactly alike, except Morgan's hair is a little darker. And she's shorter." Harry frowned a little bit, looking absolutely adorable. "I don't really care for Morgan that much, if I'm being honest."

"I would think not, if she's spending all your money," I scoffed.

Harry's frown set deeper and his eyebrows pulled together. Gah. I hated making him upset. It seemed like I'd done that so much in the past few hours that I'd been here – FEW HOURS? HOW LONG HAD I BEEN HERE? SURELY IT WASN'T THAT LATE ALREADY! I JUST HAD BREAKFAST, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! GREAT GODRIC, I HAD TO GET BACK TO SUMMER'S BEFORE MARK DID! OH MY GOSH I HAVE TO LEAVE BUT I REALLY DON'T WANT TO. I'M JUST GOING TO KEEP MENTALLY SCREAMING BECAUSE I HAVEN'T DONE IT IN A WHILE. MENTAL SCREAMING IS GOOD FOR YOU EVERY NOW AND THEN, RIGHT?

RIGHT!

…But I really did have to leave soon. Damn.

I glanced down at my feet. Then, because my eyes liked to betray me, they flashed back to Harry. He was staring moodily at the wooden planks of the dock.

Upon seeing Harry's troubled expression, I sighed and said, "Harry, you've got to talk to Meredith about this. Relationships are about communication. If you two don't talk it out and fix things before they get too carried away, the relationship could end badly." Not that I had a problem with that or anything.

"You could apply your own advice to your relationship, too, you know," Harry told me. He looked at me, taking in my staggered expression, and sent me a small, toothless smile. He laughed quietly and said, "Anyway, thanks for the help, Gin."

Mhmmmm. I loved it when Harry called me Gin. Call me cheesy, but it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Also, it made me think of fluffy bunnies and sparkly rainbow unicorns! Wheeeee!

"No problem, Harry," I said, getting to my feet. "Thanks for letting me stay here, I was glad I could talk to you about my problems." I shook my feet around to get the water off and slipped my feet back in my flip-flops. "Well, good luck with Meredith and her… twin."

"Ginny, you can come to the lake house any time you want. That's what it's here for." Harry smiled at me and I grinned back. I prayed my knees wouldn't give out. "And good luck with your boyfriend, and with Quidditch. I'll send you a letter on Tuesday reminding you of all the things we discussed during the practices, and with more good lucks. I'll force Ron and Hermione to write you some, too. Maybe even Meredith!" Joy! A letter from Meredith! "But you'll be great, I know you will. Just don't worry about it."

"Okay, thanks Harry!" I said. "And again, thanks for letting me stay."

"It was nothing," Harry said. "See you."

"Bye!"

I turned around and hurried back to the forest, thinking over our conversations. It felt nice to be able to talk to Harry like we were friends again. I could tell that what he told me about his money issues was something he wasn't comfortable talking about. And all that stuff about Meredith's TWIN SISTER? I'm sorry, but let me repeat that: Meredith's TWIN SISTER? WHAT THE HELL? Did Ron and Hermione know Meredith had a twin sister? Surely they did. Surely they knew their best friend's girlfriend had a Spawn-of-Satan Number 2? I had to write Hermione later. I haven't written to her in a while, anyway.

I reached the Apparation spot in the woods and with a _crack_, I found myself in Summer's backyard. I took a deep breath and walked to the back door, opening it slowly and walking inside. It was eerily quiet.

"Hello?" I called.

"Ginevra Weasley, you _stupid, SOULLESS GINGER!_" someone screeched. I froze. The voice was too high-pitched to make out, but I had a hunch.

My hunch turned out to be correct when Summer stomped around the corner and came to a halt directly in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest. I knew what was coming, and I knew to just shut up and listen to Summer's rant while I stood there and thought about something else… like Harry, or pie.

"Where the _fuck_ did you go?" Summer demanded to know. "You were gone for three hours, Ginny. Three hours! And you didn't even tell us where you were going! Amy and I assumed the absolute _worst_, we've been worried _sick!_ And then Mark came over an hour ago and you weren't here. He's terrified of me, as you know, but he and Amy warmed up to each other after a while and talked about some weird Muggle television show called _The 60's Show_ or something along those lines and I was sitting there nodding and smiling like an idiot because I had to pretend like I knew what the hell they were on about! But it was like one second we were talking about your date with Mark and then the next second, you were gone! For _three fucking hours!_ I mean, admittedly, I pushed your buttons with the whole Harry thing, but you didn't have to get up and _leave!_"

Summer huffed. She reached up to push her bangs out of her face before folding her arms again.

"Are you done yet?" I asked.

"Yes," Summer said slowly, "if you tell me where you went. Just as a head's up for next time."

I rolled my eyes. "I went to Harry's lake house, nosey."

"Was he there?"

I frowned, thinking it through. Again, today was just one of those things I wanted to keep to myself. I knew I was going to eventually explode from bottling all this up, but as long as I could hold it back for now, I was good to go.

"Nope," I replied. I pushed past Summer and went into the kitchen, making myself a glass of water. I turned around and saw that my blonde best friend had followed me, still looking angry. I sighed. "Summer, I apologize for scaring you by not telling you where I was going. You're right, I could have gotten attacked by a Muggle and could have been completely defenseless because I'm not a witch or anything and can't take care of myself. I'm sorry."

Summer rolled her eyes. "Put the attitude away," she said, but she was laughing. She uncrossed her arms and walked over to me, engulfing me in a hug. "We were just worried about you."

I wasn't used to hugs from Summer, so it took me a moment to hug her back. I patted her back awkwardly for a moment before she let go.

"So Mark is stuck with Amy?" I inquired. "Where are they?"

"Upstairs in the small den," Summer answered. We began walking in the direction of the stairs. I could hear the television all the way from down here.

"What did you say they were watching?"

"Um, it's called, like, _The 60's Show, _or _That 90's Shit_ or something." Summer shrugged. "All they do on the show is sit in a basement and get high."

I felt my eyebrows pull together. "Huh," I grunted.

"I mean, like, why can't_ I_ do that?" Summer continued. "My parents would kill me if I ever did drugs. Like, this is complete bullshit!"

I smiled. "What's life without a little bullshit, eh?"

"Exactly!" Summer agreed, not knowing that I had just told her my COMPLETELY EARTH-SHATTERINGLY AWESOME new life motto.

If only you knew, Summer, if only you knew…

* * *

A/N: Okay, well, I hope everyone enjoyed the 4th of July! My friends and I didn't let a little rain stop us... we partied hard. And by "partied hard" I mean we played Just Dance 2, shot some fireworks, played cards, and then had a hardcore rave party. All without alcohol, of course. We're good (and highly attractive) kids. :)

IM OBSESSED WITH BIG TIME RUSH AND I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW

Songs: The entire _All Things Bright And Beautiful_ album by Owl City; the entire _Dirty Work_ album by All Time Low

**#review**. #pleaseandthankyou #thisisnttwitter #ineedtostop gaaaaaaaah


	14. All I Wanted

So, it took me four months. Sue me.  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

I know where I want to go with this story, but I just don't know how to get there. Be patient, grasshopper.

* * *

_I could follow you to the beginning  
And just relive the start  
And maybe then we'll remember to slow down  
To all of our favorite parts_

-All I Wanted – Paramore

* * *

It was Tuesday afternoon, and I was freaking out. Was I ready for this audition? Was I good enough? What would I do if I didn't make it? What would I do if I _did_ make it?

GAAAAAH.

"Ginny, calm down."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, you have to stop this."

"Bite me."

"What's she so worked up about again?"

"You're stupid."

"Ginny, don't call your boyfriend stupid."

"Amy, you're stupid too."

"Someone please snap her out of this!"

Summer thumped me on the back of my head and rolled her eyes at me after I glared at her. Summer, Amy, and Mark were watching me pace back and forth across the living room, and Mark was confused.

"You'll be fine!" Summer assured me. "You're a natural."

"A natural at what?" asked Mark.

I glared at my gorgeous boyfriend, who had been hanging around the house incessantly for the past three days. How on earth was I supposed to practice Quidditch with my Muggle boyfriend always loitering nearby? "Mark, go home."

"You invited me over here."

"True." I bit my lip. "But you're not doing anything to help my nerves. Go home."

"Nerves for _WHAT_?" Mark exclaimed. "Will someone _please_ explain?"

"Ginny has a… singing audition tomorrow," Amy lied. She was a very bad liar. I wish she had left the whole lying thing up to me.

"It's a very important audition," Summer added. "It pretty much determines her entire career."

I groaned.

"Huh," Mark said, looking at me curiously. "I didn't know you could sing. I thought you wanted to be a nurse?"

"A what?" I asked. What the hell was a nurse again?

"A nurse…" Mark told me slowly. "You said at the club that you wanted to be a nurse."

"Oh, yeah!" I fibbed. "A nurse! That's only if this whole… singing thing doesn't work out."

"Oh. Well, will you sing for me?"

"No!" Summer, Amy, and I all exclaimed.

"I, uh, want to keep my vocal chords nice and rested for tomorrow!" I said. Summer and Amy nodded their agreement fervently. I gave Mark an enormous fake smile and shoved a thumbs-up into his face.

Ugh. Harpies tryouts were tomorrow. Harpies. Tryouts. TOMORROW. Kill me.

Harry had said that he was going to send me a letter with some words of support. So why haven't I gotten a letter yet? Summer and Amy's encouragement was getting repetitive, and Mark was just getting on my nerves. Sure, I liked having him around sometimes, but he hasn't even been my boyfriend for a week. He really shouldn't feel as comfortable as he clearly does just waltzing into my best friend's house. He needed to freaking GO HOME so I could freaking PRACTICE.

Good thing Amy took him out of my hair when she noticed I was about to explode. Merlin, bless her.

I felt my pacing speed up. I wanted to go running, but Mark would definitely ask questions if I decided to go for a jog right before a _singing_ audition.

I paused in my ridiculous pacing and stared at my boyfriend. "Mark, go home."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I want to be here to support you."

Awwww. If I actually loved Mark, I would be totally and completely touched. But since I was a selfish bitch and loved Harry, I was just annoyed. Don't get me wrong, I was glad Mark was feeling comfortable around my friends, but seriously. I needed a break. Mark and Amy got along opulently, and his relationship with Summer was improving more and more every day. He wasn't terrified of her anymore, to say the least, and that was always an improvement. As for his relationship with _me_… well, ignorance was bliss, I supposed. We had only been together for a few days though, so that was nothing to base a true affiliation off of.

At the moment, however, I just wanted Mark to go home.

"Maybe it is a good idea for you to go home, Pretty Boy," Summer said slowly. I glanced at her and gave her a grateful smile.

Amy and Mark both frowned, but Mark stood from his spot on the couch and brushed his pants off. He was looking extra dishy today in some well-fitting jeans and a red t-shirt.

"Okay," he said. He came towards me and embraced me in a comforting guy-friend-who-I-called-my-boyfriend-but-he-was-really-just-a-best-friend-that-I-snogged-every-now-and-then kind of way. I patted his back stiffly, and he pulled away and kissed my cheek. "I'll leave. Good luck with your audition tomorrow, Ginny."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mark."

Amy left with Mark to see him out, and Summer and I were left standing around the den.

"What a great guy," Summer said with a sigh.

"He sure is," I agreed, feeling my stomach sink. Every time I thought about the situation I was putting Mark in, I just felt worse and worse.

"I seriously need a boyfriend. Would you mind going back to the club with me to find myself a dishy bloke like Mark?"

I answered her question with a dark look. No way in hell was I going anywhere the day before Harpies tryouts, and no way in hell would I be going anywhere after Harpies tryouts. Especially if I didn't make it.

Upon that thought, I began my frantic pacing once more. Amy walked back in and sat down, but I ignored her. I was trying desperately to recall everything Harry had told me.

I needed to make sure I kicked off straight. Harry had said that sometimes I kicked off too far to the right and that was easily noticed by opposing teams.

Harry told me I needed to work on my overhand tosses. Sometimes I got too excited and that could possibly cost me a goal or a pass.

Keeping my feet as close to my broom as possible would help me go faster. Harry had proved this theory by allowing me to ride on his broom while he zoomed past me on my old Cleansweep.

Harry told me to concentrate on the hoops only. He had said to ignore all other movement around me: I should be able to trust the Beaters to keep the Bludger away, trust the other Chasers to help me if I needed it, and trust my broom to never let me down.

And, crap, what was that other thing Harry had said? Was it something about… aerodynamics? No, that's not right, I don't know anything about aerodynamics.

Harry told me he loved me. He was sixteen. I could still hear him whisper the words to me in my head.

I remembered our first official date. Harry stole some food from the Hogwarts kitchens and he took me to the rocks outside Hogsmeade. The view of the village was something I'll never forget, and all the shops were silhouetted against the setting sun. Harry had cracked a joke about Dean Thomas, and I threw a chip at him.

"Let's not talk about him," I had said, laughing.

"Hmmm," Harry mumbled, picking up the chip I had thrown at him and popping it into his mouth. "What would you rather talk about?"

I had pretended to think. "Me!" I exclaimed.

Harry had laughed – Merlin, I've never loved anyone's laugh as much as I love his – and agreed. "Well," he had begun, "there's this girl. I fancy her quite a bit. She's moody and temperamental, but I don't think I'd like her any other way. There's never a dull moment with her around. She's hysterical, and always has the people around her clutching at stitches in their sides. She's bloody gorgeous: She's got this long red hair that I could just run my hands through all day."

Harry had combed his fingers through my hair, and I leaned into him. The setting sun had cast a warm orange glow on our faces, and Harry's smile had never seemed brighter.

"Talk about how great of a Quidditch player I am," I had demanded.

"I'm not done yet!" Harry had scolded, but he had continued. "This girl is _very_ persistent and a bit bigheaded –" I smacked him on the arm "–but it's part of her charm. Speaking of which, Charms is her best class. This girl is a bloody _wicked_ Quidditch player. She hardly ever misses a shot and everyone in the pitch is dazzled by her halo given to her by the Quidditch gods."

"Don't you forget it!" I had said.

"Never," Harry swore solemnly.

"It seems as though you like this girl quite a lot."

"Oh, I do. I think about her all the time."

"Who is she?"

"You of course, you demanding little princess." Harry had stuck his tongue out at me and grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and kiss me, Potter."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry had leaned in, and he kissed me senseless until it was so late the shops in the village had closed.

How could he forget? How could he possibly move on?

"Ginny? Ginny, hello?" Amy waved a piece of parchment in front of my face. "Earth to Ginny. You've got a letter."

I blinked rapidly and snatched the parchment from Amy's hand. Summer looked at me suspiciously, as if she knew that I had been thinking about Harry. Crap. I'd have to confuse her later.

Speaking of Harry…

_Ginny,_ the letter read,

_I hope you are doing well. I told you I would send you a good-luck letter, so here it is. I hope you're remembering everything I told you during our practices. Remember, make sure you kick off straight and keep as close to the broom as possible. Also, keep in mind that the aerodynamics of the volume of your hair can make an impact on your flying, so be sure to pin you bangs back or something along those lines. Doing so also increases visibility. _

_I know you might get mad (but probably not), but I have included a few surprises with this letter. It should be there by the time you finish this. _

_Anyway, good luck. You're a great Quidditch player and a great person. The Harpies are mental if you're not chosen to be on their team. I know you're the last person who would need a confidence boost, but I'll go ahead and tell you that you're one of the best female Chasers of your age that I've ever seen or heard of. Personally, I think you're better than __Geraldine Stump (who is, as you know, the current head Chaser of the Harpies). I also think you're a lot more feminine-looking…_

_Anyway, best of luck tomorrow. You'll be brilliant. Let me know what happens as soon as possible._

_For the billionth time it seems, GOOD LUCK!_

_Harry._

I folded up the letter with a smile, feeling slightly less nervous. Harry thought I was a great Quidditch player _and_ a great person. Harry's good luck wishes filled me up inside, whereas Mark's just kind of made me feel like crap.

Also, him telling me I was better than Geraldine Stump – only the best, most manly-looking Chaser the Harpies had ever had – was more than a compliment. It was like a freaking accolade.

There was a thunderous _crash_ from the glass door, and Summer, Amy and I all whipped around. A great grey owl was flapping around slowly, shaking its head.

"Is that…" I said slowly, walking closer to the door, "Errol?"

The bird hooted dolefully at me and I flung the door open. Errol fluttered in a landed clumsily on the back of Summer's sofa. I untied the unusually thick piece of parchment from his leg just as three other birds flew in through the open door.

"What the hell?" Summer inquired flatly. "Is that a rat with wings?"

I looked over and saw her staring at one of the little owls that had just flown in. There were two tiny owls in the front and one average-sized owl in the back, and between them a long brown package was suspended by strings.

"That's not a rat!" I exclaimed indignantly, rushing over to the owls and helping them lower the package to the floor. "That's Pigwidgeon!"

"What kind of bloody name is 'Pigwidgeon?'"

"I named him so hush it, he's Ron's –"

"Oi, Ginny, come here and open this!" Amy said quickly, eager to end our bickering. Summer shot a disgusted glance at Pig and disappeared into the kitchen to get some owl treats.

Errol's parchment still clutched in my hand, I joined Amy on the floor and helped her unwrap the package.

I opened what I assumed to be the tail end of the package and gasped as soon as I saw what was inside. Without waiting for Amy to unwrap her end of the package, I ripped the rest of the wrapping off and held Harry's Firebolt aloft.

"Oh, my gosh," I said slowly, awed. I ran my hands over the diamond hard polish, marveling at the ash wood and birch twig tail. "OH MY GOSH."

"Where's the fire?" Summer asked lazily, coming out of the kitchen with a large red box of owl treats. Her eyes fell on the broom hovering in front of Amy and I. "Oh, my gosh!"

"I know!" I practically gushed. Gah, just look at it. The broom was bleeding perfect. I was positive that this was the surprise Harry mentioned, but I still had to be absolutely sure. "Is there a letter?"

Amy shifted the wrappings around for a moment before exclaiming triumphantly and holding up a small piece of parchment. She handed it to me.

_Ginny, _

_Surprise! Hope you like it. I thought you might want this for your try-out. Enjoy it while you can, because I want it back. It can go 0 to 150 in ten seconds, and it comes with that unbreakable Breaking Charm for superb stopping and precision. I just thought it might be helpful._

_Best of luck,_

_Harry._

I was kind of miffed that Harry had thought that I wouldn't do as well with my own Cleansweep, but I was touched all the same. Sweet Harry, always looking out for others. Why couldn't I do that?

Oh, yeah. Because I was a selfish bitch. How silly of me to forget.

"Ginny, this is _sick_!" Summer said, running her hands along the broom. "Is it Harry's?"

"Yeah," I replied. Summer shot me a look and I avoided eye contact, looking instead at the thick parchment in my hands. I unrolled it and found that it was not the parchment that was thick, there were just multiple pieces stacked on top of each other.

The first one was an enormous black-and-white sketch of me (in stick-figure form) wearing very boxy Harpies robes and clutching a strange goblet-thing with the word "CUP" written on it. There was a crown on my head and there were other stick-people around who appeared to be lumps on the ground. "BOW TO PRINCESS GINNY AND ALL HER HOLE-YHEAD HARPIES GLORY" was written in big letters across the top, and I knew then exactly who this picture was from. I grinned and flipped it over, reading the note on the back.

_Good luck! Make us proud, little sis. Love, George._

I felt my eyes start watering up, but I swallowed the feeling. My gaze seemed glued to my brother's use of the word "us." I knew it had been two years since the Final Battle, but George was still having troubles getting by without his twin. The simple message on the back meant more than I could describe.

The second letter was from Bill and Fleur. They wished me luck and told me about how their daughter Victoire had just turned two and was already starting to like Quidditch. They promised me that they would buy her a Harpies poster since it would most definitely have my picture on it.

No pressure or anything, Bill. Or Phlegm.

The third was a longer letter, written from Charlie, Mum, and Dad.

_Gin,_

_Don't worry about me anymore, I'll be fine. They've patched me all up and I start physical therapy for my back in a week or two. They said the bite from the __Catalonian Fireball would leave a permanent scar, but that's okay. It'll make me look tougher. But tomorrow, you better be focusing completely on Quidditch because you're trying to make it big time! I know you can do it. I have no doubt in you AT ALL. And even if you make the reserve, that's amazing too. Just think of all the people who would love to be in your place. Well Mum and Dad are at the hospital with me right now and they want to say something._

_-Charlie_

_Ginny dear, good luck! Your mother and I love you very much and we are so proud of you. Everything's really starting to look up for our family. Even though we know you are safe at Summer's house, we miss you at the Burrow. Come home whenever you want and we will have American-style macaroni-and-cheese waiting for you, which we know is your favorite. Oh, and your Mum and I are eager to meet this new boyfriend of yours, Markus or whoever Ron said. Please bring him home for dinner, and I promise to keep my questions to myself. Anyway, best of luck with Holyhead Harpies, and know that your family will be completely behind you no matter what you choose to do._

_Love, _

_Dad and Mum._

I was glad to hear that Charlie was doing better, or at least well enough to write an exceptional letter. However, I was irritated at Ron for blabbing to Mum and Dad about Mark. Maybe I should tell them that he and Hermione went skinny dipping together.

Speaking of my prat of a brother and my prat of a brother's girlfriend, the last letter was written from them.

_Ginny, __GOOD LUCK__! You will be BRILLIANT! Even if you don't make it, just know that you did your best and you had fun. Don't forget that you have quite a fan club that's supporting you! Never forget that no matter what happens, your family and your friends will always stand behind you. I can't wait until I see you again, because we have so much catching up to do! Oh, and I read a book about the Holyhead Harpies, did you know that they're the second-oldest team in the league? And did you know that in 1953, the Harpies played the German_ _Heidelberg Harriers__ and the match lasted seven days? At the end of that match, the Captain of the Harriers proposed marriage to the Harpies Captain, who then gave him a concussion with her __broomstick__? Crazy, I know! Just a bit of fun facts, even if you already knew them. Which I doubt you did. Anyway, best of luck tomorrow and I can't wait to see you again! Keep me posted!_

_Much love, _

_Hermione_

_Sister dear, I know you'll probably think it's rich of me to give you advice about confidence, but seriously. You've gotta have it. Just think of this as another practice with the Gryffindors. It can't be too different, can it? Right, thought not. Anyway, stay safe, don't get hurt, and make sure you don't get on the bad side of Geraldine Stump, because she's a beast of a woman. Good luck._

_Ron_

I smiled. It felt good to see the encouraging words from my family and friends, and I felt a little bit better about the try-outs tomorrow. But only a little bit.

Most of all, I felt my heart swell up even more with love for Harry because he had arranged all of this for me. I mean, he lended me his Firebolt for crying out loud. Do "just friends" do that for each other?

Ugh. My life was so confusing.

"Should you go practice on this or something…?" Amy asked hesitantly, gesturing to Harry's Firebolt.

I bit my lip and nodded, trying to make myself look assertive. I set the letters down and picked up the Firebolt, walking outside. Summer and Amy followed. I wished they wouldn't.

I mounted the broom and kicked off from the ground. The Firebolt launched quickly into the air, and I felt the familiar feeling of my insides lurching. Summer and Amy sat in a lawn chair and watched me for a while, but after about an hour of only watching me fly around in circles, they went inside to do something else that my best friends do. I flew around aimlessly, just trying to grow accustomed to the broom so I would have no troubles at all at Harpies try-outs tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Harpies try-outs. TOMORROW. Great Godric. Please excuse me while I go throw up from nerves… but not really. Because I'm a ninja and ninjas do not throw up.

Merlin, I needed a drink.

So, in order to get my mind off of tomorrow, I thought about yesterday. I thought about what Harry had said, and I thought about what I had said. I always seem to make myself look like a complete tool around him, when he's so completely perfect. Except for, you know, his money problems. It's his own freaking fault for giving Meredith and her stupid sister Morgan access to his Gringotts vault. That was just a really dumb move on his part.

And Morgan? What the hell? Geez, what a plot twist. I mean, Meredith's a bitch but I had the feeling that Morgan was worse. And what could possibly be better than one bitchy Meredith? Two bitchy Merediths! Yay!

I rolled my eyes to myself and increased the speed of the Firebolt. It was invigorating and a little bit unnerving to fly this fast so effortlessly. I made a sharp turn to the left and felt the broom execute the move flawlessly, as though it had been designed to perfectly perform sharp left turns. I tried a quick right turn, and got the same results. I felt myself grin, and I began zigzagging back and forth across Amy's backyard. If Firebolts made flying this simple I'd really have to get myself one of these suckers! I felt amazing!

…And freaking sexy, but that was a feeling I had all the time. It came naturally to me.

"Ginny?" Summer called. I looked down to see her standing by the door with her hands on her hips. "Splinty's made supper, so if you want some come inside!" She began to leave, but then turned around and added, "Now!"

I groaned. I wanted to stay up in the air and practice some more (tryouts were, after all, _tomorrow_), but… I was offered _food_…

In the end, my fatty-food-loving side won over my Harpies-tryouts-are-tomorrow side. I flew to the ground, shook my hair out, and opened the door. I placed Harry's Firebolt carefully back in the packaging it came in, and wandered to the kitchen.

When I entered, I found Summer and Amy in what seemed to be an intense discussion, for when I clomped into the room they immediately stopped talking.

"Ginny!" Amy said with a smile. "Can I get you anything? A drink?"

"Um," I responded slowly. Amy was one of the kindest people I knew, but she always left the drinks up to Splinty to receive. What made tonight any different? "Sure?"

"Okay? What would you like?"

"Er, pumpkin juice?"

Amy smiled even wider. If I was being honest, I was kind of freaked. "Coming right up!"

"Great…" I mumbled. I sat down at the table next to Summer, who was already digging into her chicken salad, and stared at the food. Once I had settled myself down, she looked up and glared at me.

"You," she said through a mouthful of food, "you made me do this. I don't eat healthy shit like salad, but because _you_ have Quidditch tryouts tomorrow and because _you_ are a fatty, _I_ have to be healthy…"

I raised my eyebrows, desperately trying to ignore the way my stomach churned with nerves at the thought of tryouts tomorrow. "Salad isn't 'healthy' when you've covered it in half a pound of dressing."

"Okay, okay," Amy said blissfully, coming towards me with a small glass of juice. Why was it so small? "Summer, stop picking fights with Ginny. You are her best friend and you are going to support her. And by 'support' I mean not calling her fat."

Amy set the glass in front of me as Summer mumbled, "Yes, Mum."

Amy walked away to go grab her wand and start the dishes, and Summer muttered the word "fat" to me under her breath.

"Slut," I muttered back.

"Skank."

"Whore."

"Bi– " began Summer, but her swear was cut off.

"Ginny, drink up, drink up!" Amy encouraged, looking from me to the glass of pumpkin juice. "You've got a big day tomorrow, you need to be prepared!"

I laughed nervously. "Thanks for reminding me, Ames." I reached for the glass. "I honestly don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight with all these nerves!"

Summer and Amy shared a look that I did not miss. I decided to ignore it and raised the glass up to my lips, but I stopped when I smelled something odd coming from the little glass. I sniffed.

"What's that smell?" I asked suspiciously, sniffing again.

"What smell?" asked Amy innocently.

I sniffed the juice pointedly. "I dunno, it just smells weird."

"Oh, yeah, I, uh, smelled that, too," Summer said. "I, uh, think the juice is a few days over expiration date or something." Her eyes flickered over to Amy.

I furrowed my brow in confusion, but after a short deliberation I decided I was just overanalyzing some rotten juice just because of my nerves. I took a gulp of the pumpkin juice, saw one last quick glace between Summer and Amy, and the next thing I knew I was blinking away bright morning sunlight.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry I made yall wait four months for a crappy chapter, but it's important for the next chapter, which is important to the next chapter after that. I repeat: I know where I want to go, I just don't know how to get there.  
This chapter was uploaded for all the amazing people who are not going to the Breaking Dawn midnight premiere tonight. Harry Potter everything else

Stay beautiful. That is all.


	15. All We Are

24 days until state, 36 days until Nationals, and 85 days until The Hunger Games movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...

Oh and I hope all of yall had happy holidays! I know I did.

* * *

_I tried to paint you a picture, the colors were all wrong  
Black and white didn't fit you and all along,  
You were shaded with patience, your strokes of everything  
That I need just to make it_

-All We Are – OneRepublic

* * *

I sat up groggily, blinking in the bright light. Summer and Amy were sitting on the edge of my crimson bed at Summer's house, peering down at me with guilty expressions.

"Wha – what happened?" I asked through a peaceful yawn.

"Er, well, it's kind of funny, actually –" began Amy.

"We poisoned you," Summer interrupted shamelessly. "Knocked you out so you could get a good night's sleep."

I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. Why must they dump all this on me so early in the morning? All I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Please don't be angry, Ginny!" Amy pleaded.

I let out a slow breath and frowned at her.

"I don't think she understands," noted Summer. "Ginny – we forced you into a deep sleep so that you wouldn't freak out all night. We knew you would, and we didn't want you to whine about not getting enough sleep before your tryout."

Tryout? That word made all the early-morning bleariness disappear. I threw the covers off of me and shot out of the bed, rushing downstairs to the kitchen. I could hear Summer and Amy following me, but I didn't pay them much mind.

Harpies tryouts were today. In a few short hours. I glanced at the clock as I snatched the milk out of the fridge and saw that I only had – Great Scott I only had an hour!

FREAKING. OUT.

As I quickly grabbed all the ingredients to create the World's Fastest-Made-Fastest-Eaten Bowl of Cereal, I pondered the fact the my best friends had _poisoned_ me in order to help me sleep. I confused, because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be grateful or royally pissed off. I decided to be a little bit of both.

I flung myself down at the kitchen table just as Summer and Amy meandered in. They sat on either side of me and didn't say a word; they just watched me shovel cereal into my mouth with slight revulsion.

"We're sorry about what we did, Ginny," Amy said quietly, "but we knew it was for the best. Please don't be mad."

I swallowed loudly. "I'm not mad." And I wasn't. I knew I would've been a train-wrecked mess if they hadn't knocked me out, as I would've overanalyzed and dreamed up the worst-case-scenarios all night. On my own, I might have gotten two hours of sleep, at the most. But I actually felt well-rested, despite the fact that I only had an hour to prepare myself for the most life-altering day I've ever faced.

Amy looked relieved at my answer, and Summer's mouth kind of twitched into a smile.

I felt myself smile as well, and I slowed down while eating my cereal. I took a few deep calming breaths. Summer reached over and began to scratch my back soothingly. It was uncharacteristic for her, but I understood it to be her way of supporting me.

"No matter what happens, we'll be here for you," she said encouragingly.

I beamed at her. I looked from her to Amy, feeling a little bit of my nerves dissolve. With the knowledge that I had my two best friends supporting me – sitting here on either side of me, not saying much but not needing to – meant more to me than I could ever describe. And with Harry's letters from my family that he sent yesterday, I had no doubt that my family's love for me would not waver just because I did not make a professional Quidditch team.

With that unusually optimistic thought, I was able to finish my bowl of cereal at a normal pace with a normal heart rate. I left my bowl on the table for a delighted Splinty to clean up, and hurried up the stairs.

I put on my Quidditch gear, and Amy braided my hair for me. I was careful to pin my bangs back, just as Harry said, as I didn't want my hair to get in my way while I was flying. I put on some mascara and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tough. Confident. Was I confident enough in my skills to expect to make the Holyhead Harpies?

"It's about time for you to go…" Summer said slowly.

I took a deep breath and headed back downstairs to get Harry's Firebolt. Summer and Amy were waiting for me by the front door.

They hugged me and wished me the best, and I took a few paces outside before I Apparated to the designated area.

The first thing I noticed was the enormous pitch, upon which the early morning sun was casting a shadow. Then I noticed all the people.

Reporters and photographers were everywhere, wearing the ostentatious yellow media jackets. Spectators – all of whom were part of some form of media – were queuing up outside the large double doors that led into the pitch, pushing and shoving one another to try and get in first. I had to take another deep breath to calm myself. When I had imagined what the tryout would be like, I had not factored in all of these people.

I stood there for a second, not knowing where I was supposed to go from there. Shouldn't there be signs or something?

Another woman Apparated right next to me. She glanced at me briefly and then began striding toward the pitch. I didn't want to follow her or ask for her help like a loser, but I didn't know what else I was supposed to do…

"Er – hello!" I said loudly, rushing to catch up with the woman. I noticed as I did so that the woman carried herself with confidence, with her shoulders back and her chin up. She stopped at the sound of my call and turned around to look at me. I smiled at her, and she smiled hesitantly back.

"I'm Ginny," I said, catching up with her and sticking my hand out for her to shake. "Ginny Weasley."

"Caroline York." She shook my hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Same for you," I said. Caroline looked to be in her late twenties, with short brown hair she had tied up into a professional-looking ponytail. She was a little shorter than me, with a Seeker build.

Caroline eyed me for a moment. "Weasley, eh? As in, the well-known Weasleys? From the War?"

"Er, I suppose," I answered hesitantly.

"Any relation to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

I wasn't quite sure what Caroline York was trying to get at (it's always hard to tell when discussing my brother's shop), so I cautiously said, "Yes, my brothers created it."

Caroline grinned suddenly. "_Huge_ fan. Can't even tell you how many Galleons I've spent there buying silly Muggle magic tricks!"

"You're just like my dad!" I said, laughing. "He's a sucker for the Muggle tricks, too."

Caroline chuckled, and we walked in comfortable silence for a moment. She was leading me toward a small back door behind the pitch. There were a few people wandering in and out of this door.

"So, where are you from?" I asked conversationally.

"Manchester. What about you?"

"Devon."

"That's a nice area. I took a vacation there with my family once."

"It's a beautiful there, especially in the summer."

"Mhmm, that's when we went. It was lovely."

I smiled but did not reply, for lack of knowing what to say. This girl could be my opponent once the audition began for all I knew. Actually, all I could think about was how far away this dadgum door was. I just wanted to get inside the pitch already before my confidence wore off.

"What position are you auditioning for?" I asked silkily, trying to nonchalantly get some dirt on my possible opponent.

"I'm not," Caroline replied.

My mouth opened for a moment in confusion, and then I closed it again stupidly. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand…"

We had reached the door. Caroline pulled it open and waited for me to file in before she followed me. I offered my thanks and took in the room. It appeared to be just a simple back room, painted green and gold to match the Harpies' colors. There were a few pictures hanging up on the walls, but nothing spectacular.

"I have no use for Quidditch playing anymore," Caroline said cagily. "So now I judge upcoming hopefuls."

I stopped short, and Caroline paused as well to blink at me. Her tone of voice was so suddenly defensive on her first sentence, but my mind was stuck on her second.

"Hold on," I said, my mind reeling. "You… judge? You'll be… determining who makes the team and who doesn't?"

Caroline nodded slowly.

"That's…" I trailed off dazedly. "That's cool."

Great Godric, the woman who was judging my trial knew me. She liked my brother's joke shop. Maybe if I offered her some free products…? No. That was cheating. Bad Ginny.

But still… that would have been a good plan, if I didn't have morals.

I blinked myself back to reality and found Caroline still staring at me. I caught up with her and we walked together through a small hallway lined with moving photos that led directly to the pitch.

The stands were packed with people and dozens of women were zooming around on brooms overhead. I felt my stomach flip with nerves and adrenaline, and all I wanted to do was get started.

Caroline could clearly sense this.

"I'll be going this way," she said, gesturing to stairs that led to the press box. "It was nice to meet you, Ginny, and good luck." She gave me a small parting smile and then walked away.

I was still slightly dumbstruck that I had just had a nice little chat with one of the judges, but I had to focus. Harpies tryouts. Now.

I walked to the center of the pitch and placed Harry's broom beneath me. I tried to channel my inner-Harry, but it did nothing but distract me – the perfectly straight kickoff I had been aiming for veered, as usual, too far to the right.

Cursing myself under my breath, I took a few quick warm-up laps. The Firebolt felt more natural to me than ever today, and its speed was still quite superb, especially compared to what some of the women in the air with me were using.

And yes, to the woman on the CleanSweep 230, I mean you. Yes, I am judging you.

With nothing to do but wait for the captain to call the audition, I decided to hover near the left side of the pitch and observe my competition. There were about seven women by the goalposts arguing vehemently over whose turn it was to use the center ring. They were clearly auditioning for Keeper. On the opposite side of the pitch, there was a huddle of women all staring each other down and swinging heavy clubs so hard and fast that it was a wonder their shoulders didn't dislocate. Of course, if it did dislocate, I knew a thing or two about Healing so I could help them if I needed to.

Healing. My dream since I was a little girl. I wanted to save people so that they had the potential to do something great, to make a difference. I wanted to save people so they had the chance to fall in love, or to be heartbroken.

Instead, I was the one trying to do something great. I dreamed of playing for the Holyhead Harpies, and here I was, hovering aimlessly in the air before the audition.

I was the one who fell in love, and I was the one who was heartbroken.

How could he forget? How could be possibly move on?

The sound of an ear-shatteringly loud squeal broke me from my pessimistic thoughts. The captain of the Holyhead Harpies, Valmai Morgan, flew into the center of the pitch clutching a clipboard and an enormous silver whistle. It appeared to be magically enhanced to create such a sound. I was pretty sure it was sparkling. I studied it for a moment, slightly transfixed. Was that… glitter on that whistle?

Being completely engrossed with the sparkling whistle, I didn't give much notice as the team manager flew into the pitch and came to a stop beside Valmai.

Any kind of movement or noise in the pitch halted abruptly when Gwenog Jones, the team manager, appeared. I tore my eyes away from the whistle and trained my eyes on Jones, straightening my back and lifting my chin. She surveyed us all with hawk eyes and whispered something to Valmai, who nodded.

The captain blew her whistle again, and I could barely keep myself from flinching away from the noise. But I had to look confident and collected, so when Valmai ordered Seekers to be auditioned first, I flew down to the ground and took a seat on a set of wooden bleachers close by.

As the women auditioning for Seeker flew around above me, I considered my mood. Strangely enough, I did not feel nervous. I felt detached, as though someone else was in my place and I was merely watching. I felt well-rested and confident, and I wasn't going to get my hopes up. I barely enough practice to even cover a fraction of some of the women here. I needed to get real: I was an eighteen-year-old girl with an attitude problem and an obsession with a moody young hero by the name of Harry Potter, with whom I was absolutely in love but claimed otherwise. Hyping myself up by thinking I have a good chance was not something I wanted to do in case my hopes got crushed.

However, I was Ginny freaking Weasley. And I was freaking awesome. So I really needed to stop worrying and play some bloody Quidditch.

Seeker tryouts were enough to hold my attention for a while. Valmai Morgan split the women into groups of three, and each group had a Snitch released. Whoever caught the Snitch first from each group stood in a new cluster, so that once all the original groups had gone, the best woman from each group repeated the process. Being a fairly good Seeker myself, I privately made a list of which women I thought were the best and severely judged the ones I thought sucked.

The evaluation repeated for a while, and once it got down to the final six, things got intense. I found myself rooting for a tiny, long-haired brunette who wasn't trying to impress the judges with crazy tricks but with her ethereal speed.

Finally, the last two Seekers were sent out to catch the Snitch, the little brunette against a blond with a pixie cut. The blond had killer dives, some that I was sure even Harry himself would have trouble maneuvering, but the brunette was faster. The two were neck-and-neck, and the Snitch was speeding along about two feet away. The brunette reached her hand out, about to grab it, but the little golden ball suddenly dropped. The brunette was staggered for a moment, but the blond was not: without a second's hesitation, she plummeted to the ground after the Snitch. The brunette followed, but the blond was already there, the Snitch clutched tightly in her hand.

The Seekers landed, and Valmai Morgan and Gwenog Jones flew into the pitch to meet them. Valmai blew her glittery whistle and announced that the blond, Harmony Gurkin, had made the reserve team.

Harmony squealed, and the brunette's face crumpled. I felt bad for her, because I had been on her side. I also realized that her fate could be identical to my own, and then I felt even worse. However, watching the brunette walk away dejectedly gave me a new conviction: I would _not_ let that happen to me. I wouldn't let anyone see how I really felt. If I didn't make it, I would hold my head up high and keep my face smooth, even if I was falling apart on the inside. I was a pro at keeping my feelings to myself. I'd done it perfectly for years.

The try-outs continued after the Seekers: Keepers were auditioned next, and then Beaters after that. No one was chosen from the Keeper group – the Harpies had a very good Keeper on the team already (Gwyn Taylor, she's a legend) – although two women were sent home only after leaving the judges their contact information. One Beater was chosen, and she made the actual team. Her name was Beth Greer. Lucky little skank, getting to skip over the reserves and get straight to the good part.

Needless to say, I was quite jealous of Beth Greer.

Next thing I knew, they were calling up the Chasers. There were two Chaser positions available on the Holyhead Harpies – Gloria Justice and Ally Garrett had retired last season, one because of age and the other because of a severe hip injury. So, that meant the team officials were either going to bump up someone from the reserves, or someone who was about to be auditioned had to beat a reserve.

I wasn't being picky about which team I made, as long as I was on one.

We were split into thirteen groups of three and one group of four, and the assistant in charge of getting us organized dubbed my group as "Group Twelve." As the first group flew into the center of the pitch, I decided to get acquainted with the other women in my group. Sure, I was going to try as hard as I could to beat them, but there was no point in wasting my good manners.

"Hi," I tell my group with a smile. "I'm Ginny Weasley."

A woman who was my height but appeared to be older than me turned and nodded. "Suzanne Kimble," she said. I noticed her name didn't start with a 'G'. How unfortunate.

I look to the group in the sky, and notice that there is no Keeper to cover the goalposts. There were also no opponents. How was this supposed to be difficult? However, I notice that there is one Bludger zooming around, but I get distracted before I can get a good look.

The other member of my group, a tall woman with bronze skin and sandy brown hair, turns and smiles at me. "Your name is Ginny?" she questions. "Short for Ginevra?"

I nod, slightly wary. If she makes fun of my name I will not hesitate to shove Harry's Firebolt up her nose.

"Oh, my gosh, _no way_!" the girl chirps unexpectedly. "My name is Ginevra, too!"

Geez, how does someone's voice get that high? "That's cool," I said.

"Totally! I go by Eve though, instead of Ginny." Eve grins.

I nodded but didn't answer. I was already sick of this girl. She was way too annoyingly bubbly for me.

"I don't like the name Ginny," Eve continues in a trilling voice, "it sounds like something I would name my pet hamster."

She was also way too annoyingly rude for me. I wasn't gonna be a hypocrite and say that I was the world's nicest person, but I knew when to stop talking. Unlike this girl.

I tried to zone her out and focus on my competition in the air while Eve prattled on about her hamster named Carlos. There was a strawberry blond in the group flying now who appeared to be quite good. However, she did not have the smart idea to pin her bangs back, so her hair kept getting in her eyes and distracting her. I was very thankful for Harry's advice and for Amy's braiding skills.

"Carlos could probably catch a Quaffle better than half of those Keepers earlier," Eve was saying. "He could also catch a Snitch! Gosh, that little brunette Seeker from earlier was _terrible_. I could catch the Snitch better than her in my _sleep_!"

"Oi!" I rounded on Eve frostily, feeling the need to stick up for the first person all day to get cut. I could easily picture her devastated expression in my mind, and I did not appreciate some bimbo named Eve making fun of her. I wish I had known her name. "If you think you could have done better, maybe you should've auditioned for the position of Seeker instead of Chaser. If I were you, I'd stop talking, because that brunette Seeker made it to the final two – which, I'm sure, is better than you will ever be able to do."

Eve look slightly jaw-slacked, and then she turned away from me to watch the group auditioning in a wintry silence. Good riddance.

Ten groups later, there was a new group of winners from each group, the strawberry blond from the first group among them.

"Group twelve!" the assistant called. Eve, Suzanne, and I trudged out into the pitch and mounted our brooms. Eve and Suzanne shot straight up without a thought, but I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, tried to relax, and focused on my kick-off.

I opened my eyes and smiled to myself. Perfect.

Valmai Morgan and Gwenog Jones were in the air waiting for us.

"I'm going to toss the Quaffle up, and you three are going to try to work as a team to get it through the hoops," Valmai instructed. "Alternate the sides of the pitch after each goal."

I doubtfully thought that it would be easy for me to work in a team with Eve, but it had to be done. If there was one thing I was sure of, however, it was that I had to get that Quaffle from Valmai's hand before the others.

"On the count of three, then," Valmai said, raising the bedazzled whistle to her lips. "One –" She slowly started to raise the Quaffle up. I didn't take my eyes off the ball. "Two –" Valmai brought it back down in preparation for the toss. "Three!" The whistle blew, the Quaffle was tossed into the air, and I was ready – my arm shot out before the other two could move, and I had the Quaffle tucked under my arm. I began speeding away, and a moment after I found Suzanne a short distance away from me. I tossed the Quaffle to her and she caught it effortlessly, shifting it so that it was cradled against her body. I noticed she held the ball quite well – it would have been quite difficult for an opponent to capture it that way. I filed the mental note away to use some other time.

This seemed away too easy – there weren't any opponents, no resistance. It just seemed too easy – tossing the Quaffle between three people with only the wind as our adversary.

Just as I was thinking this, the Bludger came zooming up from the left, headed straight for Suzanne. I shouted a warning, and Suzanne had just enough time to toss the Quaffle to Eve before diving down to avoid being hit. Eve caught the ball clumsily, the ball nearly slipping through her fingers. She began speeding toward the left goal hoop. There wasn't even a Keeper there to protect the goals. How was this game supposed to be hard?

Despite her earlier fumble, Eve shot the Quaffle into the hoop with impeccable aim – the ball went through the dead center of the hoop and began falling to the ground. I swooped behind the hoop the catch it, seizing it flawlessly. I begin turning around to fly back to my group, but I see the Bludger coming straight at me. The malicious ball is coming around the open side of the goalpost, so there is nowhere for me to go but through the very narrow part between the left and the center goalposts. I knew I wasn't going to make it easily though the gap in the posts the way I was – I tuck the Quaffle close to my body, fold my head under, and reposition my feet from dangling in the air to the back end of the broom, thereby making myself as small as possible. I quickly rotate my body to the side, so I was flying horizontally, and squeeze through the gap between the posts just as the Bludger zooms around the goalpost.

I shoot straight upward, spiraling, and make a vertical loop so that I circle around the left goalpost upside down and come through the hole right-side up. It was a clever trick I had seen at the Quidditch World Cup when I was thirteen, which I had always imagined myself doing but I was too scared of going through the hoops to attempt myself. Now, I felt no fear: I felt exhilarated. With a whoop, I kept the Quaffle cradled safely against my chest as I shot off toward the other side of the pitch, Eve and Suzanne hot on my heels. Harry's Firebolt wasn't the newest model of broom on the market anymore, but it was certainly faster than Suzanne's. She was not as quick as Eve and I.

Deciding that my stunt through the goalposts was enough spotlight for me at the moment, I flew further away from Eve to make the toss look more difficult before I threw it to her. She caught it that time without any difficulties, tucking it under her arm and zooming off to the opposite goalposts. As we streaked across the pitch, the Bludger suddenly zoomed in front of us, cutting straight across myself and Eve's intended path and forcing us to slow down quickly. Suzanne, who had gotten through the Bludger's course without a problem, turned around without slowing, clearly expecting Eve to toss the Quaffle to her.

Instead, Eve gritted her teeth, renewed her grip on the ball, and bolted forward again.

"What the hell?" I shout at her. "Suzanne was wide open! She could already have been at the goal by now, if you had passed it!"

"It's _my_ ball, _I_ caught it!" Eve shouted back, closing the distance between herself and the goal.

"What?" I spluttered. "It's your ball because I threw it to you, you idiot!"

Eve didn't reply, she only ground her teeth together again. I looked at how she was holding the Quaffle – in her right arm, slightly out in the open. That's how Harry would hold it during my practices with him, and I had no difficulty stealing the ball from him. Making a split-second decision, I decided to go against the rules – "teammate" or not, Eve was being selfish.

"Suzanne, go down!" I shouted at her, gesturing to the air below Eve.

Suzanne understood, moving below Eve without missing a beat. With a burst of speed, I moved right next to the sandy-haired girl, reaching out and popping the ball from her grasp. The Quaffle fell and Suzanne caught it, rocketing forward and shooting the ball into the center hoop.

With an angry roar, Eve streaked down to catch the ball. She quickly returned and sped to the other side of the pitch, shouting out something in my direction that sounded a lot like "Bitch!"

I rolled my eyes and caught up to her easily, once again fluently taking the ball out of her grasp. I kept it close to my body, closer than I had earlier in case Eve had gotten ideas.

"Oi!" I called out, half-a-second before I tossed the Quaffle in Suzanne's direction. She caught it, and with her lips pursed in concentration, she streaked across the pitch. As the distance to the posts got smaller, I glanced at Suzanne – and I was glad I did.

"Suzanne, duck!" I shouted. She didn't hesitate; the Bludger went straight over her head and hooked to the right to try and smash into Eve. Eve dodged just as Suzanne threw the Quaffle to me.

I heard Eve's shout of fury as I closed in on the center post. I could see her growing closer in my peripherals, so I didn't pause to throw the ball into the hoop. Instead of a traditional toss, however, I underhandedly tossed the Quaffle into the center hoop by throwing it beneath my broom. The ball went straight through the hoop and began its descent downward. Suzanne went to retrieve it as Valmai blew her whistle.

Eve, Suzanne, and I flew back to where Valmai and Gwenog were waiting. I could feel my heart going a mile a minute, not only from the exercise of the game but also because of nerves. I had been too reckless, too flamboyant – they didn't want me. I was a rule breaker. I was instructed to treat the members of my group as a team, and we were supposed to work together. Working together as a team did not include stealing the ball from my teammate twice.

The captain and the manager kept their faces smooth. I wonder if they knew that they were about to shatter my dreams? I held my breath as Valmai began to speak.

"Well done," she said. "I would like for Ginevra Weasley to please join the others for the second trail."

My heart leapt. I had done well! Well enough to progress, that is. I was now competing against the best of the best in order for a spot on either the reserve or the actual team, but I didn't want to think about that because I WAS GOING TO THE NEXT ROUND! SUCK IT, EVE! AND YOUR FREAKING HAMSTER CARLOS! BECAUSE I WASN'T GOING HOME YET AND YOU WERE SO HA HA HA HAAAAA!

"No, no." Gwenog Jones interrupted my internal celebration, and my heart sank. She gazed at me with shrewd eyes. I think my heart – overactive with joy a moment ago – actually stopped beating.

"What's the problem?" Valmai asked Gwenog.

"I don't want her to go stand with the others," the manager said. I tried to force myself to take deep breaths. It was over. Gwenog didn't want me to come back, and I wasn't about to argue with her because she scared me. "I want her on my team _now_."

My poor heart. It picked up again double-time, going faster than it did even after my first kiss with Harry. If I had heard Gwenog correctly (which was impossible, but I couldn't help myself from hoping), then I was in.

"What?" Valmai said, flabbergasted.

"I don't want anyone else," Gwenog clarified. She pointed at me and said, "I want _her_."

"But – but what about Gibby Ribbons?" Valmai said, flipping through pages of her clipboard. "Kimberly Lowery? We both liked them a lot. And what about the last group of people who waiting to be auditioned, as well as those who have been admitted to the second trials?"

Gwenog looked at Valmai and raised her eyebrows. "Have you seen any Chasers here who have had as much spunk as her?" Gwenog gestured to me.

"Well, no, but she did break the rules –"

"Valmai, don't even go there," Gwenog practically growled. "When you were auditioning for your position as Beater, you 'accidentally' knocked out both members of your group in one go, as well as that stunt in which you beat a Bludger so hard it went straight through the bleachers and nearly collapsed the stadium."

I tried picturing Valmai Morgan doing that on her first ever professional Quidditch trial, and I couldn't help myself – I laughed a little. Out loud.

Valmai's gaze shot over to me, and I wiped my face so that it was completely blank and humorless. She stared at me, and I could've sworn her gaze softened, just a little, before it returned to the indifferent mask she had worn the whole time.

"But… why?" she asked inquiringly. "What's so special about her?"

Gwenog shrugged. "She shows lots of promise – and she reminds me of myself when I was her age. I just have a good gut feeling about this. Just go with it."

Valmai sighed. "Fine. But who will our second Chaser be?"

"Grace Alexander could do it," Gwenog said, without skipping a beat. "I've been waiting to move her up ever since Ally announced what the Healers had said about her hip. Either way, I want Ginevra here to play on my team."

"Ginny," I corrected bravely.

"I'm sorry." Gwenog kind of smiled at me. "I want Ginny on the Harpies. Send everyone else home."

Valmai sighed and glanced at me, but the look was free of resentment, for which I was glad. She flew downward and landed among the heap of hopefuls, whose opportunity at a career I had just taken from them. I should've felt bad, but I couldn't really bring myself to feel anything other than elation.

Suzanne and Eve flew down to the ground wordlessly, and I felt a little guilty at the sight of Suzanne looking so defeated. Throughout our audition, I think Suzanne and I worked as the best team I'd ever formed with a complete stranger. Which wasn't saying much, but still. It's whatever.

Gwenog flew over to me and grasped my hand. I couldn't stop beaming. I was on the Holyhead Harpies. Not the reserve, but the actual team. And I only had to try out _once_.

The team manager shook my hand firmly and gave me a wink. "I meant what I said, about you reminding me of myself," she said. "I also meant what I said about having a gut feeling. I have very good gut feelings, you know."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, ma'am," I said, grinning.

"But, since I've singled you out like this, you better try as hard as you possibly can to impress me. Our team is counting on you, don't forget – and also remember that not doing your best hurts not only everyone around you, but yourself as well."

I looked Gwenog straight in the eye, trying to convince her with my words that I was going to do everything she told me to and more. "I won't let you down," I said. "I promise."

Gwenog stared at me for a moment, and then nodded slightly.

"Well then," she said. "There's a team meeting here tomorrow at two. Don't be late."

"I'll be there," I replied confidently.

The team manager began turning to leave. I did the same, about to fly to the side of the pitch in which I entered, but I stopped and turned when Gwenog began speaking to me one last time.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said, turning to face me. She smiled. "Welcome to the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny."

* * *

A/N: Did I confuse yall with the crazy Quidditch scenes? I'm sorry. I could picture what was happening in my mind, but I wasn't sure how to write it down. And writing Quidditch scenes is not my forte.

Sorry this took a while. I've had the beginning typed for a while, but I kept putting off the actual try-out because I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen. Hope it turned out okay.

Songs: Don't Stop (Color on the Walls) - Foster the People; Ready For Change - Ben Rector; I Just Wanna Run - Downtown Fiction; Best I'll Ever Be - Sister Hazel

Please **review**.


	16. White Houses

In which Ginny becomes sentimental, and the author of this fic switches tenses once again.

Disclaimer: JKR OWNS HP

* * *

_Maybe I'm a little bit over my head  
I come undone at the things he said  
And he's so funny in his bright red shirt  
We were all in love and we all got hurt_

-White Houses – Vanessa Carlton

* * *

I had to walk back to the designated Apparation spot to return home. I could not stop smiling, and my head was so far up in the clouds that I barely noticed the contemptuous looks from all the other women whose opportunities I had stripped from them.

At this point, I felt little to no remorse.

When I reached Apparation point, I didn't even bother to try and be polite: I Apparated straight into Summer's living room. As soon as I got a good gulp of air, I began screaming in happiness.

Summer and Amy were blurs as they rushed up to me, asking if I had made it, what had happened.

"I MADE IT, I MADE IT, I MADE IT!" I screamed. I was just so happy. "I'M ON THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES!"

My two best friends screamed with me and hugged me so tightly that I did not notice the handsome boy sitting in the corner of the room. The three of us jumped around in a circle, never letting go of each other, squealing all the while.

"My best friend is on the Harpies!" Summer was saying excitedly. "I can't believe this!"

"I'm so proud of you!" Amy said, beaming. "You totally deserve it!"

The three of us kept jumping and grinning at each other until I heard a voice that made me cringe.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Mark asked, looking frantic. "Ginny just appeared out of thin air!"

The three of us stopped jumping and broke apart. My boyfriend had been the figure in the corner, and he was currently staring at me in horror. Summer and Amy suddenly became very interested in the carpet, and I felt my smile falter a bit.

"No I didn't," I lied. "I ran in through the door. You must have missed me."

"No!" Mark shouted. I'd never heard him shout before. Granted, we hadn't been dating that long, but he was around all the time. That counted for something, right?

"Mark, you're imagining things," I said crossly. He was seriously raining on my parade.

"I am _not!_ I heard a cracking sound and suddenly you were there!" He pointed to the spot in which I had appeared. "And what is the Holyhead Harpies?"

"It's a… travelling show choir!" I said, remembering the cover-up we had told Mark.

Mark folded his arms and stared at me. Guilt gnawed on my insides, and it made me uncomfortable. I hated feelings, and I hated lying to my boyfriend about who I really was. But that wasn't the only lie I'd told him.

"I want to know the truth," Mark said somberly. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward me.

My eyes darted around the room, looking at everything but him. "I am telling the truth…"

"No, you're not. I can tell you're hiding something. I could tell ever since our first date. Why can't you tell me?"

"I'm scared," I said quietly.

Summer and Amy silently slipped out of the room. Great. Does this mean I have to tell Mark the truth? _Now?_ I really wasn't planning on telling him _ever_, much less minutes after I had just made the Quidditch team of my dreams. I really didn't want to tell him. Could I keep lying? I didn't think I could pull that off. I was only a good liar under immediate pressure, like in the arms of a Death Eater.

"Scared of what?" Mark started coming closer, opening his arms as though he were about to embrace me.

"Don't." I held out a hand, stopping Mark's progress toward me. "Don't touch me."

He halted, his expression hurt. I felt the guilty feeling again.

Sighing, I said, "Mark, you might want to sit down."

We both did so, on separate chairs. I took another deep breath.

I figured the best way to do this was to just spit it out. I was reminded of the pond at the Burrow, and how it was easier to just jump in than it was to ease yourself into it. And besides, I was never one to beat around the bush.

"I'm a witch," I mumbled, looking at the floor.

There was a silent pause. "What?" Mark stammered.

"I've never been to college, I went to a magical school called Hogwarts. I don't own a phone or whatever because I use owls to communicate with my friends. I don't want to be a nurse, I want to be a Healer, which is basically the same thing except we use spells and potions to heal someone. I can't sing to save my life, and today I auditioned for a spot on a professional Quidditch team, which is a game witches and wizards like to play on broomsticks."

Mark was gaping at me. I took comfort in the fact that he wasn't running away screaming, so I kept going.

"That night on our date, when your wine exploded, that wasn't your fault. My ex-boyfriend was there and he used his wand to blow it up. The restaurant didn't replace the tablecloth, I used a spell to clear it myself."

His eyes were unfocused. I couldn't bring myself to stop talking.

"You've heard me use the word 'Muggle' multiple times, and that's a slang word that we use to call someone who isn't magical. Every member of my family is magical. Summer and Amy are magical. I had to leave our first date early because my brother got bitten by a venomous dragon and I had to help him. There was a terrible war that was fought at the school – Hogwarts – two years ago. One of my brothers died. I had a pet Pygmy Puff named Arnold, and he –"

"Stop," Mark interrupted. He was shaking his head quickly. I waited quietly for him to do something.

I waited for a very long time, and I was getting anxious and annoyed. I wanted to go tell my family about the Harpies. I didn't want to sit here and tell my boyfriend about magic.

"Can you, you know," Mark managed, "do something cool?"

I frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please? I just have to see it… just to have it all make sense…"

I hesitated, but pulled out my wand all the same. Mark's eyes widened. Gah, even when he was confused and possibly frightened, he was still highly attractive to the point of distraction.

"You have to promise me you won't run away," I told him sternly.

He nodded, and I wordlessly pointed my wand at the couch opposite us. It began levitating, and I changed its color from brown to neon pink and back again.

To my immense surprise, Mark began laughing. "That is so cool!" he said excitedly. "Do something else!"

"Ummm," I stalled. I didn't really have that much cool stuff to do, and I was also slightly unnerved at how easy Mark was to convince. I pointed my wand at Summer's television remote, muttered, "_Avifors_," and it turned into a small bird. It fluttered around the room, and Mark watched it with awe.

"This is amazing!" he exclaimed.

"I'm kinda freaked out, to be honest," I said. "Why aren't you terrified?"

Mark looked at me and shrugged. "I dunno. It's cool. And I know that even though you can do all this cool stuff, you're still Ginny, right?"

"Right…" I replied slowly. I felt myself smile. I'm still Ginny. "That's a good way to think of it."

Mark grinned at me, and looked back at the bird, which I then transformed back into the remote.

"Thanks for telling me," Mark said after a pause.

"No problem," I said. I tucked my wand back into my Quidditch robes, which I was still wearing.

"Congratulations on making that team thing…"

I laughed. "It's called Quidditch. Now that you know, you can watch it sometime."

"That's awesome! Can I bring some friends?"

"No!" I said loudly. "No, Mark, you can't tell _anyone_ anything I've just told you. Besides, who would believe you?"

He frowned a little bit, but said, "Okay."

We stood up, and he reached out to hug me with a questioning expression. I laughed and went into his arms, and we stood there in an embrace for a while.

I was glad Mark knew. I felt so much better about the relationship now that I wasn't lying to him constantly.

"I think you should go home today, Mark," I said. "I have a lot to do."

"Sure," he said. "Should I… owl… you or something later?"

I burst out laughing. Hearing Mark suggest that owling me would be easier for him to communicate with me was pretty hysterical.

"No, I'm getting the hang of the telephone these days," I said, giggling.

Mark smiled, and I reached up to kiss him lightly on the lips. He took the opportunity, however, to deepen the kiss. His hands reached up to my hair, and he took down Amy's careful braid and began to run his fingers through it, making my hair messier than it already was. My own hands slid down from his chest to the hem of his shirt, and I began fiddling with the clothing until I broke the kiss with a grin.

Mark groaned. "You are such a tease," he complained.

I winked playfully and began walking toward the door. Mark followed, and within minutes, he was gone.

"How'd that go?" Summer asked, emerging in the room with a bag of chips in her hand.

"All right," I said. "He took it decently well. Thanks for ditching me, guys."

"Oi, don't hate." Summer took a chip out of the bag and stuffed the whole thing into her mouth. Her next words were muffled. "We only left because you're a ginger."

I rolled my eyes. Amy walked up and held out a glass of water for me, and I gratefully took it and drank half of it in one go.

"Thanks," I told her when I had finished.

She smiled. "No problem. So how'd it go? What happened?"

"Well, he told me that he knew I had been lying and then he –"

"Ginny, I meant Harpies try-outs."

"Oh." I took another drink of water and told them about Suzanne and Eve, how well Suzanne and I worked together, and what Gwenog said to me.

"That's amazing," Summer said when I was done. She sounded impressed. "Like, seriously."

"You've got a lot to live up to," Amy warned.

"I know," I said, sighing. "I'm kind of scared about it. There's a team meeting tomorrow at two."

"Wow. I'm still just in awe that my best friend is on the Holyhead Harpies." Summer crunched on another chip. "When you guys make your calendar, I'm totally buying it and hanging it on my ceiling so I can look at your face every night."

"That's creepy."

Summer grinned.

"I'll buy the calendar," Amy said. "But it'll have to be hung up in the closet. You know that the Appleby Arrows are still my team."

"Of course!" I said, laughing. Despite my difficult conversation with Mark, I still felt giddy from the audition.

All right, well, first things first. I had to go to Harry's.

Well, actually, before that, I had to change out of these sweaty Quidditch robes. While I was at it, I might as well take a shower.

"Right, well, I'm going to go clean up," I announced.

"I guess I'll go watch TV," Summer mumbled. She went to the couch, collapsed on it, and immediately began munching on her chips at twice the speed she had been before.

Amy shook her head, smiling at our friend. "I'm going home today, just stopping by to say hello to my parents."

"Oh, okay," I said. This was not unusual. Every year when we come to Summer's, Amy leaves at least once (usually via Floo) to visit her parents. Summer and I think it's because as an only child, Amy is used to a ton of attention from her parents that she does not get with the three of us, since we split the attention pretty equally. We think she gets a bit homesick for that reason, so we don't have any qualms at all in letting her go every year.

Amy waves goodbye to Summer and I, and I go upstairs to take a quick shower. I charm my hair dry, put it up in a neat ponytail, and put on a cute pair of white lace shorts and a button-down.

Before I go downstairs, I make a detour into the lounge and grab Harry's Firebolt, which I had left in there. Keeping it from another professional Quidditch player would probably not be a good idea, and now was as good a time as ever to return it.

When I thump down the stairs, Summer glances over at me and asks, "Why do you look so cute?"

"I'm going out," I respond, deciding that telling her I'm going to Harry's would not be a good idea.

Summer frowns and stares at my shorts. "Can I borrow those shorts sometime?"

"You know they'll be ten times shorter on you than they are on me."

"True." Summer shrugs and I open the door and walk to the Apparation point. I focus on Harry's flat in London, and with a loud cracking noise I found myself in the alleyway beside his complex.

Harry's flat is in an enormous skyscraper that sits right outside the heart of the city. He doesn't like it very much, but he says it's convenient and I'm not going to argue with him.

Before I enter the building, I charm Harry's broom to blend in with the surroundings so no Muggles see it. I walk in and head for the elevator, finding there is another man in there. I press the Level 7 button, and it lights up above the one the man pressed for Level 11.

I hated elevators. They were too closed-in for me. To pass the time, I turned to the other man in the elevator. He had on a striped hat and a tweed suit, and he was clutching a briefcase.

"Hi," I said cheerfully.

He smiled politely to me and looked away.

"I'm Ginny."

The man nodded disinterestedly.

"Today's an absolutely beautiful day, isn't it?"

He didn't bother looking at me that time.

"So, do you live here?" I asked.

The man shook his head.

"Just visiting then? Me, too. I have some very important news for my friend Harry."

The man shot me a look, his eyes flitting down to my stomach, and I realized that what I said could be taken the wrong way.

"Oh, I'm not pregnant or anything," I assured him quickly.

He smiled politely at me again, and the elevator came to a stop on Level 7 with a _ding!_

The doors opened, and I stepped out, telling the man, "It was nice talking to you!"

Once on the landing, I turned the corner and began walking quickly to Harry's flat. Once I got there, I patted my hair down obsessively and knocked on the door.

Harry opened it after a moment, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts with his boxers poking out. I tried to look anywhere but at his stomach.

"Ginny!" he said in surprise. "Come in!"

He opened the door wider, and I stepped inside.

Harry's flat was a typical bachelor pad. Clothes, plates, and cups were everywhere. A fluffy white couch sat in the middle of the room facing a television, and the green curtains had been pulled only halfway across the window that spanned across the entire back wall.

"Wait here while I find a shirt," Harry said. He walked down the nearby hallway that I knew led to his bedroom.

I wandered over to the mantle behind the couch. I had been to Harry's before, so I knew what photos were on his mantle, but there was a new one this time. Looking closer, I found that it was a picture of him and Meredith outside an enormous brick house. Sitting next to this picture was a half-empty glass of soda, in which nasty green circles of bacteria were growing inside.

I made a disgusted face as Harry came walking back into the room, wearing a collared red shirt.

"Harry, this is disgusting," I said, gesturing to the glass.

He frowned. "I'm sorry, Meredith put it there. It was taken last month outside her parent's house."

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about?"

I picked up the glass and tilted it in his direction so that he could see the life that was growing inside.

"Oh," said Harry. "That."

"Yes, that." I used my wand to clean the glass, and with another casual flick I emptied all the glasses in the room and sent them to the kitchen. I did the same with the plates, and then sent all the clothes to the hamper.

Harry grinned. "You're an angel, Gin," he said gratefully.

I pocketed my wand, smirking. "I know."

"So, why did you come over? Just to bother me?"

Harry flopped down on his couch, and I did the same.

"Of course!" I said, smiling. "No, I came over to give this back." I lifted the charm I had put on Harry's broom and handed it back to him.

"How did it go?" Harry asked hesitantly, taking the broom and leaning it against the edge of the couch.

"Well…" I began, biting down a grin. "When I was done with the trial, Valmai Morgan and Gwenog Jones began arguing, and then Gwenog told me she didn't want me on the reserve –"

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry –"

"– they wanted me on the actual team!" I finished with a squeal.

Harry's face lit up and he stood up, pulling me with him until I was in his arms and he was spinning me around.

"This is great!" he said. "Isn't it just the best feeling in the world?"

"Absolutely!" I responded, beaming. Harry put me down, but his hands remained on my waist.

"Tell me everything," he demanded.

I awkwardly stepped out of his grasp and sat back down on the couch, while Harry sat down on the coffee table opposite. I told him what I told Summer and Amy, with a bit more detail. He made faces when I told him about Eve and how she took the ball, but he congratulated me after I told him about my trick through the goalposts.

"Did you see that in the Quidditch World Cup?" Harry asked.

"Yeah!" I answered. "I'd never tried it, but it seemed simple enough. I'm glad it turned out okay, or else I think I could have gotten seriously hurt."

"I would normally advise you against attempting a trick you'd never tried, but it seemed to work pretty well for you here…" Harry shook his head, chuckling.

I rolled my eyes and continued with my story, telling him exactly what Gwenog had said. When I got to the part about Gwenog recounting what had happened during Valmai Morgan's trial, Harry burst out laughing.

"She did that?" he asked in disbelief. "For real?"

I glared at him for interrupting my story. He mumbled an apology, and I continued without any disruptions until I was finished.

"Wow," he said. He let out a breath and looked at me with a smile. I wanted to let out a breath, too, but I found that my lungs weren't quite working when he was looking at me like that. "Ginny, that's amazing! I couldn't be prouder."

"Yeah, well, you helped a lot."

"It wasn't just me, though. You're born with it," Harry said. "Also, all those years of practicing with your brothers probably helped, too."

"Of course!" I said, slightly angry that he thought I didn't give any credit to my brothers. My brothers taught me everything I knew, Harry just helped me touch it up. "Speaking of my brothers, I was going to go visit Charlie in the hospital today – you know, tell him the news. Would you like to come with me?"

"Sure," said Harry, "let me put some shoes on first."

He walked back to his bedroom, but continued to hold a conversation with me.

"So Jones just decided to send everyone else home?" Harry yelled from his room, his voice slightly muffled. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," I called back. "She said that she had a good gut feeling about me. Apparently she has good gut feelings. Or something."

"That's just amazing. What a great experience!"

Harry's voice became less muffled until he was standing in the doorway, wearing a simple pair of sandals.

"Tell me about it," I muttered. "All right, well are you ready to go?"

Harry nodded, and together we made our way back to the elevators to go to the alleyway. We made small talk while in the elevator, cautious of the other two women in the shaft.

"So, who else knows?" Harry asked lightly. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and that gesture alone made me want to shove him against the wall and snog him senseless.

"What?" I asked, distracted. "Oh, yes, well, Summer and Amy know, and so does Mark."

Harry raised his eyebrows, but showed no other sign that he was bothered by this. "Oh?" he said. "Mark knows? That's good. Communication. That's good."

"Mhmm."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "So Mark knows… everything?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer to me. Circe, he just smelled so _good_. "About… our school and stuff?"

His scent was making my brain go fuzzy. "Yeah," I think I mumbled. I shook my head to clear myself, reminding myself that swooning was not part of my personality.

The elevators reached the lobby, and me, Harry, and the two older women meandered out. Harry kept his hands in his pockets as we walked out the complex doors and rounded into the alley.

"See you," Harry said, turning on the spot and disappearing. I did the same, and found myself standing in the room meant for visitors to St. Mungo's.

Harry and I went up a few floors to where Charlie was being kept and wandered down the corridor until we found his room. I knocked lightly on the door, and when I heard someone say "Come in!" I turned the knob.

"Ginny!"

I barely had time to register the sound of my mother's voice before she was hugging me tightly.

"Oh, and Harry, too!" she said breathlessly. "Oh, it's so good to see you, dears. I was just about to leave, actually, so it's so good of you to stop by!"

"It's great to see you, too, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, grinning. My mother beamed at him and gave him a big bear hug.

"Ginny! Harry!" Charlie grinned lazily at us from his hospital bed. He was lying flat on his back, but his face was turned towards us at the door. It was good to see that he could move his neck.

"Charlie!" I said excitedly. I rushed over to him, feeling Harry and Mum follow. "How are you?"

"Doing fine, little sis," Charlie said. Hearing his voice again made me smile. Charlie always made me smile.

The age difference between Charlie and I was so vast that we barely fought when we were younger. Charlie patiently taught me how to fly, and he tolerantly helped me learn to tie my shoes, and he somewhat-kindly told me when my make-up looked terrible when I was going through the "beginner phase."

"Hey," Harry said. He was standing about an inch away from me. I had to force myself not to grab his hand or stare at him for too long, so I began a mantra of _MarkMarkMarkMark_ in my mind and kept my hands to myself.

"Hi, Harry," Charlie said, his smile ever-present. "What brings you two here?"

"Well, I hadn't come to see you since the day of the accident, so I thought it was about time," Harry said. "And your lovely sister here has some news for you."

Harry thought I was lovely?

"News?" Charlie said, his eyebrows raising. "You're not pregnant, are y –"

"Stop right there," I said, glowering playfully. "I have much better news than a pregnancy… I made the Holyhead Harpies!"

Charlie's jaw dropped and he stared at me in disbelief. From somewhere to my right, Mum gasped. Next thing I knew, she was hugging me again and tittering on about a family supper, and Charlie was whooping his congratulations and demanding me to tell him everything, and Harry was laughing his beautiful laugh and I felt happy.

In that moment, I felt like everything was perfect. All the crap was still there – Fred was gone, Harry was unattainable, my family still struggled with money sometimes, and I still felt guilty about my feelings for Mark – but it felt as though the crap was being buried underneath all the good stuff, and I was happy.

It was a good feeling.

* * *

A/N: Not my best, I don't think... well, whatevs. Hope yall liked it all right. It didn't really make sense to me. But, I do believe Mark's reaction to her magic is realistic. Mark is such a kid. So is Ginny. It's what makes them get along so great (sometimes).

I just had a taco. I was in DisneyWorld for the 6th time last weekend. It was too happy. I yelled at someone.

Songs: One Man Drinking Games - Mayday Parade; City Love - John Mayer; James - Zach Williams; We've Got A Big Mess On Our Hands - The Academy Is

**review please and thank you and tacos and such**


	17. Don't You

Yeah, it's been a while. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

* * *

_It's true: it's just a fantasy for two  
But what's the difference if it all could have been true?  
I guess this is better  
But don't you want the way I feel?_

-Don't You – Darren Criss

* * *

The next morning consisted of me, Summer, and Amy dawdling around the house until two o'clock for my first Harpies meeting. I fussed over how to style my hair and what to wear before settling on a ponytail and a simple v-neck with shorts. I left Summer's ten minutes before two and wandered down to the same back entrance of the pitch that Caroline and I had entered yesterday. Once inside the building, I wasn't sure where to go, so I paced around the green-and-gold room, studying all the pictures until a tiny girl with unruly black hair emerged from the bathroom. I recognized her, of course – it was Hayley Grissom, Seeker. I was pleased to see that she was dressed similarly to myself, though she was holding a brown plastic bag that kept making weird clicking noises, like plastic hitting plastic.

"Hi," she said brightly. Her skin was very pale, and the long black curls that framed her face made her appear so fragile, though from watching her in action during a game I knew she wasn't. "Are you here for the meeting?"

She smiled at me, and just like that, I decided to like her.

"Yeah," I said, unable to keep myself from smiling back at her, "I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm the new Chaser."

She needlessly introduced herself. "Hayley Grissom, year two of being Seeker for the Harpies."

I wanted to ask her what was in the bag, but I decided to keep the question to myself since I had just officially met her about five seconds ago.

We began walking down the hallway that I knew led to the pitch, but at last minute made a left turn into a room that had the door thrown open. This room was gold, with a green stripe running through the middle and the talon logo of the Harpies painted on a wall. There was a long wooden table set up in the middle of the room, where five people were sitting. Gwenog Jones was sitting at the head of the table, with Valmai sitting beside her. On her other side was Geraldine Stump, who was sporting jeans and an oversized t-shirt, her hair in a bun and her arms folded crossly. The other two were Beth Greer, the new Beater, and Grace Alexander, the other Chaser. I sat down in the chair next to Grace, a dirty-blonde with that kind of naturally wavy hair that everyone was jealous of and warm brown eyes, who smiled shyly at me. Hayley flung herself down next to Beth, frantically trying to keep her curls out of her face.

I caught Gwenog's eye. She subtly winked at me and I gave her a small smile and awkwardly looked down at the table.

Conversation was not boring once the old team members reunited.

"Guess what I bedazzled last night," Hayley said, grinning at Beth. Beth raised her eyebrows and Valmai chuckled to herself. Hayley didn't care if anyone responded – she plowed right on, "Sunglasses! For everyone!"

Hayley pulled out the plastic bag and dumped it upside down onto the table. Eight pairs of sunglasses scattered across the table, each covered in large faux diamonds that appeared to be hot glued to the surface of the accessory. They were all either green, gold, or black. I was immediately reminded of Valmai's sparkly whistle from yesterday.

"Oh, my gosh!" Valmai said, reaching for the nearest pair of sunglasses. "These are too cute!"

"Thanks," Hayley said brightly. "I figured we could all wear them to our games together, to make us look more intimidating. I decided to go with the fake Ray-Bans because I figured the sparkles would stay on better."

Whatever the hell Ray-Bans were, these sunglasses with the plastic diamonds were pretty darn cute. I picked up a green pair and slipped them on. I turned to the girl sitting beside me, Grace, and struck a ridiculous pose.

"How do I look?" I asked.

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Gorgeous," she told me, and with that one word I told myself that I wanted to be good friends with Grace.

"Ohmigosh!" someone squealed. I turned to the doorway and spotted the remaining member of the team standing there. Gwyn Taylor, the Keeper of the Harpies for the past four years, bounded into the room, her short blonde curls bouncing. She lunged for a yellow pair of sunglasses and put them on, grinning. I could already tell that Gwyn had more energy than the dadgum sun. "These are adorable! Who made them?"

Hayley raised her hand and said, "Guilty!"

"No way. These are supercute," Gwyn said. She sank into the seat beside me. "Last night, I bedazzled headbands! I forgot to bring them, though. We should've teamed up, Hales."

Hayley opened her mouth to reply, but Gwenog cleared her throat to cut her off. No matter how tight-knit this team seemed to be, Gwenog still dominated over everyone else.

"Hello," she said. "I'd like to congratulate the new women for making the team, and to try to make them feel welcome. Grace and Ginny, if you would please wave."

We did. Valmai and Hayley grinned at me, Beth waved back at us, Geraldine nodded in our general direction, and Gwyn nudged me with her elbow. I smiled.

"Also, I would like to remind you that we were the last team to host auditions. And because of our late try-out date, I am sorry to announce that the League ball is tomorrow night."

I heard Gwyn's mouth pop open before I turned to look at her. "No way," she said under her breath.

I must have looked confused, because Gwenog was looking at me as she explained, "The League ball is an event in which the members of every professional Quidditch team join in a night of gowns, tuxedos, food, and dancing. Gwyn's outrage, I believe, stems from the fact that she only has about a day to find a dress."

I couldn't focus as Gwyn made a disbelieving noise. All I could hear in my head was Gwenog saying "the members of every professional Quidditch team…"

"Are we allowed to bring dates?" Beth asked. Then she smiled sheepishly and said, "I forgot if I did last year or not."

"You are," Gwenog answered. "They can be Muggles as long as you are positive that they can contain themselves."

_The members of every professional Quidditch team…_

"Does this mean that Harry Potter will be there this year?" Hayley asked. My heart turned over in my chest.

I wanted to know the answer.

I didn't want to know the answer.

I knew the answer.

"I suppose he will be," Gwenog said, in a no-nonsense tone.

"Oh, he's so dishy," Hayley said. She and Gwyn launched into a conversation about Harry while I tried to get my thoughts together.

Was I jealous?

Was I nervous?

I didn't have to _sit_ by him, did I?

Was I going to throw up?

I knew the answer to that one: yes.

"Is the press going to be there again?" Geraldine asked flatly.

Through the haze that was my mind, I found that I was shocked to hear Geraldine's voice. It wasn't deep, as I had anticipated, but even and smooth.

"Most likely," Gwenog replied. "The press pays for it, and arranges it. It's the public's first look at the new teams for the upcoming year."

Geraldine said nothing, but crossed her arms across her chest and stared at the table.

"…I think I'm going to bedazzle my shoes," Beth was telling Valmai.

"That's clever!" Valmai responded enthusiastically. "I might do that, just to re-wear them without the press getting on my back about it. I loved those shoes that I wore to last year's ball, but they're just too memorable that I couldn't…"

I zoned out of their conversation and listened to Hayley jabbering to Grace about the ball.

"…yeah, and they place you and your date between, like, the most random people," Hayley was saying. "Like last year, I ended up beside Josh McCarthy of the Tornadoes and across from Logan Lovett of the Magpies."

"Was it awkward?" asked Grace.

Hayley scrunched up her nose. "Not really," she said. "Logan and his date were a hoot. The press arranges you next to people they think you'll talk to. It's all planned out, from what I remember."

My head was reeling. The press knew I had dated Harry. What if they put me beside him? What would I do? What if he took Meredith?

Wow, I was stupid. _Duh,_ he would take Meredith. Just like I would be taking Mark. As much as I wished it was me Harry was taking, I knew this was the way things had to be.

"All right," Gwenog said loudly, effectively cutting off the team's individual conversations. "You have the next two days off, but after that I want you here every morning at nine for training. Thank you, and see you all tomorrow night."

The chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood up, Beth and Valmai picking up their previous discussion immediately while Hayley prodded an irritated-looking Geraldine into conversation.

"Ginny, Grace, if you two could come with me, please," Gwenog said. Grace's eyes widened, and Gwenog hurried assured her that we weren't in trouble. "I just have to give you your new robes," she said.

The manager led us out the room and unlocked the door directly opposite.

"This is the locker room," Gwenog said, leading us in.

It was bigger than the Gryffindor locker room, with about twelve lockers that looked more like closets than anything else. The lockers were brown doors, five of which were covered in glitter and more plastic diamonds. I was again reminded of the Captain's whistle.

"What is with this team and sparkles?" I asked. Not that I minded – I liked sparkles and glitter just as much as the next girl, but it seemed kind of odd from a professional Quidditch team.

Gwenog emerged from an office that I hadn't noticed before – it was located by the back wall of the room, next to a hallway that I was sure led to the bathrooms and showers. She had two stacks of clothing in her hands.

She smiled a little, handing me and Grace each a pile. "The 'bedazzling' as they call it, originated my first year on the team. It was something that just popped up, that someone liked to do – it blossomed into a team thing. It got to the point where we would go over to each other's flats and glue sparkles on their cabinets." Gwenog smiled. "It's just a nice tradition that separates us from the other teams. Do you think a co-ed team would allow their women to put sparkles on everything?" She laughed again. It was different to hear Gwenog laugh like that, but it sure was something I wanted to hear again. "It's just something good about an all-female team. Pretty soon you two will get swept up in it, too. You just have to get used to it."

"I'll take your word for it," I said, grinning.

Grace laughed, and Gwenog did, too.

_She reminds me of myself when I was her age,_ Gwenog had said. I wondered if Gwenog had ever followed her manager into the locker room and been given her robes. I wondered if she had ever been wondering _what the hell is wrong with my teammates and why do they feel the need to put diamonds on everything. _I wondered how she became the strict person she appeared to be now. I wondered if she had ever been given the chance that she had given me.

"There are three sets of practice robes in there," Gwenog explained, gesturing to my pile of clothes, "as well as two sets of formal robes, for games. I trust you have your own broom and gear?"

Grace and I nodded.

"Well, that's all, then. Good luck finding your dresses, girls."

We took this to mean _get out_,so I followed Grace out the locker room door after telling Gwenog, "Thank you, see you tomorrow!"

Grace and I walked in easy silence until we walked out the door, heading back to the Apparation point.

"It's going to be a nightmare trying to find robes for the ball this late," Grace commented.

"Robes?" I said. "You should go with Muggle dresses. They're much more plentiful as well as more attractive."

Grace thought about it for a moment. "But I am pure-blood. I haven't the foggiest clue of where to even begin looking for Muggle dresses."

"Come with us!" I said excitedly. "By 'us' I mean my two best friends and I."

"I don't know…" Grace said hesitantly. "What if they don't like me?"

I snorted. "That won't be a problem. If I like you, they'll like you." Not necessarily true in Summer's case, but I was still meaner than Summer. Meaning if I could grow to like someone, surely Summer could, too.

We had reached the Apparation point, and it was now or never.

"So, you coming or what?" I said.

Grace bit her lip. "Oh, all right!" she said. "Let's go."

I grinned and grabbed her hand, taking her back to Summer's with me. I Apparated into the yard where Summer, Amy, and I had ended up the night of that club, when I had met Mark. Grace's eyes widened as she took in Summer's house, the splendor of it.

"Wow," she said. "Nice house."

"You get used to it," I told her, and began heading toward the door. Grace followed me and listened as I explained that this was my friend Summer Lewis's house, the blonde, and my other friend was the dark-headed Amy Loins.

I opened the door and shouted a greeting. Wandering into the living room, we found it empty. I grumbled an apology to Grace and led her up the stairs to the lounge, where both Summer and Amy were sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching _That 70's Shit_ (or whatever) again and eating chips.

"Oi," I said, "you have company."

Amy's head jerked up and she quickly pushed herself to her feet. She beamed at Grace and introduced herself.

"I'm Grace Alexander," Grace said, shaking Amy's hand. At the sound of the newcomer's name, Summer looked away from the TV and nodded in Grace's direction.

"Summer," she said. She turned back to the TV.

I rolled my eyes.

"Ladies, we have work to do," I said. "Grace and I have a ball to attend… tomorrow."

Summer's blonde hair flew through the air as she scrambled to her feet, her face astounded. Amy's face had a similar expression.

"Tomorrow?" Summer said, her voice coming out accusatory. "That's such short notice. It's not even fair."

"Yeah," I said, "well, we can't do anything to change it. Will you two help Grace and I find dresses?"

Summer gave me a _well, duh_ look and Amy said, "Of course!"

Ten minutes later we were rushing out the door, Summer's chips stuffed in her purse and my pockets filled with Muggle money. A few minutes after that, we found ourselves wandering into a store in the center of a busy city street, Amy leading the way and the rest of us trialing after her.

As soon as we entered the store, Summer made a bee-line for a short dress that was completely covered in gold sparkles.

"You have to get this one, Ginny!" Summer squealed at me, holding up the dress.

I wrinkled my nose. "No," I said. "Besides, I want a long dress. I feel like a long dress would look better for this kind of event."

"I agree," said Grace, who was eying a white dress that was hanging on a mannequin. "In all the pictures I remember from the League ball last year, mostly everyone had on floor-length robes or gowns."

Frowning, Summer placed the dress back on the hanger.

"Hey, how about this one?" Amy called. Summer, Grace and I walked over to where Amy was standing, gesturing at a floor-length baby blue gown with sparkles decorating the bodice.

"I love that!" Grace said. She took the hanger from the rack and threw it over her arm. We heard someone cough behind us, and we turned to see the sales clerk glaring at the dress over Grace's arm.

"Would you like me to start you a fitting room?" she asked.

Grace blushed and mumbled an apology. "Yes, please," she said in a small voice.

The clerk took the dress off her arm and marched over to the dressing rooms. She came back and proceeded to follow us around while the four of us perused the store.

A while later, Grace had found three solid dresses to try on and I had found about seven that I wasn't sure if I liked or not.

I emerged from my dressing room, clad in my sixth dress that was solid black and one-shouldered. The dress I was wearing had a deep V in the front and a very open back. When I walked up to the mirror, I found Grace in a stunning soft pink gown.

I gasped and practically roared at her, "BUY THAT BUY THAT BUY THAT!"

Grace looked somewhat alarmed at my gorilla-like behavior but blushed nonetheless.

"You think it looks that good?" she asked, twirling a little in front of the three-way mirror.

Summer snorted. "Good? Honey you look like a million bucks."

"I agree," Amy said, smiling kindly at Grace. "That blush pink really looks beautiful with your skin tone, and the cut of the dress is really flattering."

The dress was tight-fitting on the bodice, which was completely covered in sparkles, and had thin straps that crossed in the back. The rest of the dress was loose and long, with extra silk that pooled around Grace's feet on the floor.

"Do you have a date yet?" Summer asked.

Grace turned pink and looked at the floor. "Well, my brother's friend is kind of interested in me, so I was thinking of maybe… asking him…"

"DO IT DO IT DO IT!" I said, pumping my fist in the air for emphasis.

"If you buy that dress I swear he won't be able to keep his hands off you," Summer promised.

The blood pooled even more in Grace's cheeks.

"Oi, stop picking on my new friend," I said, "and tell me what you think of _my_ dress?"

Grace's color returned to normal now that the eyes of my friends were off of her.

"It's all right," Summer said, frowning at my dress.

"It's definitely better than that red one you tried on," Amy said.

"And that white one," Summer said, making a face, "that one was awful with your pale skin."

I rolled my eyes, and saw Grace start wandering toward the back of the store, the pink silk of her dress trailing behind her. "I'm not here for you to criticize the other dresses, I want to know if you like _this_ one," I said.

"Well, it's a very pretty cut, I suppose," Amy said. "It's very… sexy."

"You look like a vampire," Summer said bluntly.

I sighed in frustration and began stomping back to my dressing room to try on my last dress.

"Hey, wait," Grace said, "what about this one?"

I stopped and looked at the dress she was holding. It was floor-length chiffon, strapless and emerald. The top and bottom of the bust was framed with a gold band that made two elegant lines across the open back of the dress. I blinked at it.

"How did we not see this before?" I asked. "We looked on every single rack. I'm confused."

Grace shrugged. "Just try it."

I took the dress and went back into my fitting room. I put on the green one since I didn't really like the last dress anyway. It was a printed number that Amy had picked out that would've looked great on her, but terrible on me. I spent a moment searching for the hidden zipper on the side of the green dress, before zipping it up and stepping out of the dressing room.

"BUY THAT BUY THAT BUY THAT!" Summer said, making a crude impression of my reaction to Grace's dress.

I glared at her, but she just grinned. "But really," she said. "Buy that, you look hot."

"Seriously, Ginny," Grace said. She was still chillin in her pink dress. "You have to get that one. It's stunning."

"Fabulous choice, Grace," Amy complimented. "It's perfect."

While Grace blushed and mumbled her thanks, I walked up to the three-way mirror and looked at myself. The emerald of the dress looked good with my skin, it made my eyes pop and it didn't clash with my hair. The sweetheart neckline of the dress, lined by the gold band, accentuated my collarbone and the general cut of the dress was simple and elegant. Plus, I looked as far from a slut as possible. That was always good.

"All right," I said. I walked back into the dressing room, changed back into my shorts and V-neck, and walked back out, clutching the green dress. A moment later Grace emerged from hers mirroring me. I paid for the dress, which was surprisingly cheap for a Muggle gown, and waited for Grace to pay for hers. We returned to Summer's, where Grace left to talk to the bloke who would hopefully be her date, and I used Summer's telephone to call Mark.

Our conversation went mostly like this:

Me: Hi Mark, it's Ginny.

Mark: Oh hey Ginny, how are –

Me: Shut up. Listen, tomorrow night is a ball or banquet type-thing for my Quidditch team. I can bring you as my date, but you have to promise me that you can contain yourself.

Mark: Contain myself?

Me: Like, don't piss yourself when someone does some really impressive magic. Or something.

Mark: All right, I think I can –

Me: Do you have a tux handy?

Mark: No, but I can –

Me: Rent one.

Me: ALLLLLLLLLRIGHTTTTTTT bye Mark see you tomorrow at 5!

And then I hung up.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I haven't been in a writing mood for a long time. But this is where thigs start picking up, so stay with me.  
I'm going to a Big Time Rush concert.  
I'm going to Vans Warped Tour.  
I'm so excited.

This chapter was important for you to see the way the team worked, and how Ginny and Grace are becoming friends. Also, to show how Ginny and Mark's relationship is mostly Ginny bullying Mark, but she makes it funny so it's not so mean.

Songs: Actors - All Time Low; Never Be What You Want - We Are the In Crowd; Bittersweet Life - My Favorite Highway

**review & please stayyyyyyyyyyyyy with me  
**(maydayparade/youmeatsix)


	18. The Town's Been Talkin'

Hey yall. Sorry it's taken so long, I caught the One Direction infection in January and since then every time I get on the computer it's to stalk them. Like, it's bad. I'm so obsessed omg.

Either way, this chapter is extra long and I think it's pretty interesting, and FINALLY the plotline starts to pick up. Hopefully, for all you who hate Mark, I'm gonna be honest and say he should be gone within the next few chapters.  
Also, shoutout to Anonymously OBSESSED for a super awesome review... and shoutout to everyone else who reviews forreal i love yall ok

Disclaimer: Switchblade Kittens are a real Wrok band, and JKR owns everything you recognize... and I wrote the song lyrics later in the chapter! wheeeee

* * *

_Cause you're in love with love,  
You're not in love with him.  
And I can tell by the way you play it off,  
Like you don't know what you're doing to him._

-The Town's Been Talkin' – the Maine

* * *

"Are they going to perform magic here?"

"I don't know."

"Are people going to be wearing, like, wizard hats and stuff?"

"I'm sure someone will, yes."

"Am I going to have to eat toad spawn or something witchy like that?"

I burst out laughing, and Mark laughed, too, more at me than at himself. "No," I assured him.

We were walking down the street, headed toward the Queerditch Marsher Center, where the ball was being held. To Muggles it appeared to be an old barbeque shack, but those who knew what it really was could see it. I had Side-Along Apparated Mark to the designated spot, and it took him a moment to recover from the unpleasantness. It's bad enough when you're a witch and are used to it, but I can't even imagine how awful it must have been for Mark.

"Do you see it?" I asked him. "The Marsher Center?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice full of awe. "It's beautiful."

The Queerditch Marsher Center was an enormous columned building modeled after Roman architecture, and it was currently swarming with people and the flashing lights of the press. The Marsher Center was stunning, of course, especially to someone who had never seen it before. I had never seen it in person, much less been inside, but I had seen it in the newspaper after World Cups and things.

It surreal to me that I was about to go inside.

Mark and I were almost to where the media was swarming. Before we got there, Mark stopped me.

"Are you nervous?" he asked me, his icy blue eyes filled with concern.

I nodded. I wasn't nervous about the actual ball, I was nervous because Harry would be in there. But of course I wouldn't tell Mark that.

Mark lifted one side of his mouth into a smile, causing him to dimple. I grinned. He leaned in to rest his forehead against mine.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning?" he said quietly.

"You might've mentioned it," I said.

Mark kissed me on the lips, his fingers twining with the curls hanging around my shoulders and down my back.

Gah, he was such a good kisser. WHYYYYYYYYYYY.

He broke the kiss and kissed me on the forehead. He then took my hand, and we walked into the flashing lights and mass of people crowding the entrance of Marsher Center.

"It's Ginny Weasley!" people shouted, swarming me as soon as I stepped onto the pathway leading to the doors.

"Miss Weasley, who is escorting you tonight?"

"How does it feel to be the newest member of the Holyhead Harpies?"

"Miss Weasley, tell us what designer you're wearing?"

"Please tell us what you think of your new team?"

"Miss Weasley, what is your date's name?"

Mark and I ignored the questions, smiling and pushing our way to the entrance. Mark was gripping my hand like it was a lifeline. I squeezed his hand and he looked down at it sheepishly, loosening his grip with an apology.

The press didn't follow us into the building, where we were ushered through a large welcoming room with wood paneled walls and into an ever larger room where tons of people were milling about.

The room was hunter green, with a stage built into the west wall that sported a band in tuxedos and cocktail dresses. Circular tables with white tablecloths were scattered around a dance floor, and each table had a folded-up note card on each plate with a name on it. Along the northern wall, a long table had been set up that had snacks and drinks on it.

I recognized a lot of the people in the room just from following Quidditch teams in magazines and stuff, as well as a few members of my team. Valmai Morgan was standing by a circular table nearby with the man I knew to be her fiancé, Monty. I knew this from my subscription to _Quidditch Weekly_, not because I stalk her. Promise.

Valmai saw me and smiled. She gestured for me to come to her. I towed Mark to where she was, explaining on the way that Valmai was my Captain and pleading for him not to say anything stupid.

"You look lovely," Valmai told me once Mark and I reached her.

"As do you," I said, surveying her cream-colored gown that looked very pretty with her skin tone. "That color looks great on you!"

"Oh, thank you!" Valmai said. She placed a hand on her fiancé's shoulder. "This is my fiancé, Monty Freemont."

Monty smiled, and shook me and Mark's hands. "How do you do," he said in his deep voice.

"Doing well," I said as Mark nodded his agreement. "This is my… boyfriend, Mark Hollis," I said gesturing to Mark.

Mark shook hands with Valmai and Monty, charming them with his dimpled grin and icy blue eyes. I could tell even Valmai was impressed with him.

"So, do you play the beautiful game?" Monty asked Mark.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mark asked, looking confused.

"He means Quidditch," I said to Mark. Then, to Monty, I explained, "Mark is a Muggle. He found out I was a witch only two days ago. All of this is pretty rough for him."

Valmai and Monty had sympathetic expressions.

"How're you taking it?" Valmai asked Mark. "I know it can be a lot to take in."

"It's a shocker, all right," Mark said, laughing. I sensed that Valmai kind of wanted to swoon a little bit, but maybe it was just me because I sure did. "But it hasn't been so bad. I think it's more fascinating than anything else."

"You're lucky you've found someone so open-minded," Valmai said to me, "because it's a gem to find someone who is so accepting like that."

I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, I sure am lucky…" I said, thinking about Mark and Harry and MarkandHarry.

Valmai and Monty wandered off soon after that, and Mark and I began to wander around the tables looking for the note cards with our names on them. I saw the names of my teammates on some of the cards, none of them at the same table as another, as well as familiar names of stars that I had grown up idolizing.

We got stopped a few times during our search to talk to people. Hayley came bounding up to me in a short, fluffy dress that was sparkly at the top and heels that were probably half the length of my arm. She introduced us to her date, a calm, charming man who acted like the rope that tethered Hayley to the earth. We were then joined by Beth, whose long brown hair was styled up in an elegant ponytail that had clippings in it to match her royal blue robes. Beth had arrived with a Muggle as well, though he was from America and said he had been friends with Beth's family for ages, and he knew their family secret.

Mark and I left Beth and Hayley to chat and continued our hunt for our seats.

"Oh," Mark exclaimed, "here they are, Ginny!"

I followed him to a table not far from the stage. Sure enough, the names _Ginny Weasley_ and _Mark Hollis_ were gracefully printed onto two separate note cards, placed on top of the ivory plates. I looked around at the names of the people around us. To my left was Greyson Moore, Chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps, and a girl named Macy who I assumed was his date. Mark was sitting next to some bird named Alice, but her date was Corey Bunt and he was the Beater for the Tutshill Tornadoes, and had been for the past five years.

I had a brief fangirl moment over the people we were sitting next to, and then had to explain myself to Mark, which was kind of annoying. Judging by the randomness of the two couples around Mark and I, I decided that the chances of Harry and Meredith sitting at our table were slim, so I stopped worrying. Instead, I forced Mark to come find Grace with me.

We found her at the snack table, drinking a glass of white wine. She looked stunning in her soft-pink gown, and she had pinned her hair back so that it was down, but out of her face.

"Grace, why are you so hot?" I said, approaching from behind in hopes of frightening her. Fail. Grace just turned around and laughed.

"Good question," she said, chuckling. She grabbed a man's arm and pulled him into our conversation. "This is my brother's friend, Louis. He's escorting me tonight."

Louis was a clean-shaven man with brown hair and friendly green eyes. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled up. I got the feeling Louis was a really funny guy. "Hullo," he said.

I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Hi," I said, "I'm Ginny Weasley, Grace's teammate, and this is Mark Hollis, my boyfriend."

Louis shook our hands, and then moved to place his hand on Grace's back. Grace met my eye and turned pink.

"Where are you sitting?" Mark asked conversationally.

"Just there, on the other side of the entrance," Grace said, pointing. "Oliver Wood is at our table!"

"No way!" I said. "I'm so jealous, he is so cute!"

"I know, right?" Grace said, giggling.

Louis coughed and said, "So, Mark, have you seen any players you've known all your life yet?"

Mark laughed charmingly. "I'm not magical, or whatever, and I barely know what Quidditch is!"

Louis gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, mate. Come here, I'll explain it to you…"

Mark and Louis wandered toward the cracker display together, Louis giving Mark an in-depth pay-by-play of what Quidditch is and how it works.

"So, you and Louis are…?" I said questioningly, nudging Grace and raising my eyebrows.

She blushed and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said, I don't know!"

"Oh, come on, Grace, tell me!" I pleaded, laughing. "I'll keep it a secret, I promise!"

"It's not that," Grace said, "it's just that I honestly don't know! He's one of my brother's best friends and he's around at the house all the time, and we're close, and I've liked him forever, but… I just don't know!"

I smiled at her and patted her hand.

"I know I'm not making much sense," Grace laughed. "But can you kind of see where I'm coming from?"

I snorted. "You have a major crush on your brother's best friend – who is supercute – who's always around and you don't know how to react, and you've liked him for as long as you can remember?" I shook my head and frowned. "Nope, I have no idea what that's like. Sorry."

Grace sighed. "Thought not. On a lighter note, Mark is one of the most attractive Muggles I have ever seen. Those eyes – whew! And I think I literally got weak at the knees when he smiled!"

I smiled. "Yeah," I said awkwardly. "Yeah, Mark has that effect on people…"

"Have you seen Geraldine tonight?" Grace asked. I shook my head. "She looks very nice, and I actually saw her smile… Look, there she is now!"

Grace pointed toward a table across the room. Sure enough, Geraldine was sitting there in maroon dress robes, her hair down from its usual bun and styled into a long braid. Her date, a muscular man who looked like he could eat me in one bite, was sitting cross-legged beside her and they were talking quietly.

"That's… nice," I said, not knowing how to respond to what I saw. "Geraldine kind of scares me, though."

"I know what you mean," Grace replied.

Grace and I stood in silence for a moment, both of us looking around at the guests.

I tried to be subtle, I really did, but the question just kind of tumbled out: "Have you seen Harry Potter at all tonight?"

Grace frowned. "No, actually, I haven't," she said. "However, I did hear that he was sitting at that table there –" She pointed to the table Mark and I were assigned to. "But that's just what Gwyn told me."

I forced myself to laugh. "Oh, ha ha, that Gwyn, always telling stories…"

"Oh, yes, I remember this one time when the team was working with the reserve last summer, and Gwyn was telling us that porcupines had to…"

I zoned out of Graces story, and felt my feet carry me toward the table Mark and I were assigned to. I walked around to the side opposite my note card, and read the one directly opposite of my chair.

_Harry Potter_, it read. And to the right of that card, _Meredith Carr_.

Shit. I don't know how long I stood there staring at their names, but I was snapped out of my trance when a voice that I knew all too well spoke from behind me.

"Ginny?"

"AGHHHH!" I shouted, jumping and twirling around. My heels were so tall that I nearly busted it, but Harry's strong arms caught me before I could do anything too embarrassing. Thank Merlin paparazzi were not allowed inside because if they had caught that on camera I might have to smother myself with a pillow or something.

Actually, I was thinking of doing that right now.

Harry was chuckling at me, his hands still on my waist. I looked around and saw Mark, Grace and Louis all staring at us. I awkwardly stepped out of Harry's grasp and rubbed my arms.

"Christ, Harry, you scared me," I said obviously.

He didn't reply, he just laughed at me.

I glanced back at Mark and the others. Sighing, I gestured for Mark to join me and he obediently excused himself to plant his feet by my side.

I tried to make this as brief as I could, so I began to deadpan, "Mark, this is Harry. Potter."

They shook hands.

"Harry, thisismyboyfriendMarkandwe'rejustgonnagooverhereokaybye," I mumbled quickly. I grabbed Mark's hand and began to tug him away, but his feet were firmly stuck to the floor.

I grumbled under my breath, cursing Mark and his manners as Harry introduced Meredith. I surreptitiously continued my attempt to tug Mark away while he grinned and shook hands with Meredith. I was glad to hear that the cow wasn't trying to flirt with my boyfriend while I was standing here. That seemed like a very _Meredith_ thing to do.

I gave up my fruitless tugging and instead looked at Harry. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a soft grey button-down underneath, and a teal bow-tie. Who planned that outfit? Harry doesn't have style. But bless whoever did because he looked damn _good_. I had never pegged him as a bow-tie kind of guy, but now I was hoping that he would don bow-ties every day of his life. Plus, the colors all looked really good together.

Seriously though, who planned that outfit.

Meredith was wearing a simple black gown that was floor-length and had silver straps that met across the open back. I was surprised to find that the v-neck of the dress was very modest as well. Was it bad that I was admitting to myself that she looked nice?

"You clean up well, Ginny," Harry said.

I really wanted to say _you would know, Harry_, but instead I replied with, "I know," like a complete stuck-up moron.

I could feel Mark looking at me, so I smiled a little and said, "Oh, look, everyone is sitting down. Mark, let's go to our seats."

Mark shrugged. "Nice to meet you," he said to Harry and Meredith, flashing them a smile. Harry's eye twitched, but I didn't pause to think about it as I dragged Mark around the table to our seats. He pulled out my chair for me, and I muttered "thanks" to him as I saw Harry do the same for Meredith across the table.

Greyson Moore and his date sat down beside me. We exchanged introductions for a moment, and then Seth Sockins, the commentator for every Quidditch World Cup since 1976, came on to the stage and walked up to the microphone.

"Hello, everyone!" he said, smiling. "For those who don't know me, I'm Seth Sockins! It's so great that you all could make it tonight. As you know, this is a big deal for the Quidditch community, as well as a time for members of rival teams to be together and get to know each other!"

There was some laughter and grumbling at that – the rivalries in the league run very deep, and it was a fat chance the Tornadoes would get on with Puddlemere.

"But for now, we hope you enjoy your meal and some fantastic live music! Make the most of the dance floor everyone, and let's hear it for our band tonight, Swimming with Squids!"

The room clapped as Seth exited the stage and the band began to play a cover of a popular Weird Sisters song.

"What do I do now?" Mark asked me quietly.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "You speak to your glass," I explained. "Like this."

I leaned in towards my wine glass and said, "White wine."

Mark watched with awe as my empty glass began to fill up with the light liquid right before his eyes.

"That is _so cool!_" he said, beaming. And of course, when he was smiling like that, I couldn't help but grin back and laugh at him. Before I could stop myself, my eyes shot across the table to meet Harry's gaze, who was watching us with an expression I did not study long enough to make sense of. I looked away just as Mark leaned forward and hesitantly said, "Red wine," to his cup. He watched his glass fill just like mine did with the same fascination as before, and I couldn't contain my laughter.

"All this stuff is so cool," Mark said with a frown, "why wasn't I born with magical powers?"

I laughed at him and took a sip of my wine, looking around our table. Beside Mark, Corey Bunt, from the Tornadoes, and his date Alice were talking quietly and sipping their wine without bothering anyone else. To my left, Greyson Moore, from the Wasps, looked like he was playing footsie with his date as they both kept squirming and giggling at one another. Harry and Meredith looked like they were having a very intense conversation, and Meredith was frowning.

I tried with all my might to hear what they were saying, but I was interrupted from my attempts by a waiter in a black vest asking me if I wanted salad.

"Please, thank you," I said, somewhat distractedly. The waiter plucked some lettuce from a floating tray nearby and then arranged them on the small dish in front of me, adding some tomatoes and spinach, and then he poured some dressing over the dish before addressing Greyson and asking him the same question.

Mark, who I saw already had his salad, leaned in to speak in my ear. "Why don't I get to speak to my plate?" he asked curiously.

"It's less formal," I replied.

"Oh," Mark said, sounding disappointed.

I laughed. "Sorry, love. Maybe some other time."

He grinned. "Hopefully."

I picked up my little fork and began to nibble at my salad. What was this dressing? It was freaking GOOD. I made sure to spear pieces of lettuce that were especially drenched with the stuff. The waiter was just now placing salad on the plate of the girl next to Mark, so when he was done I politely waved him over.

"Yes, miss, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Um, I was just wondering what this dressing was made of?" I asked.

The waiter blinked at me. "We are not allowed to discuss the recipes used at formal events," he said quickly, before turning on his heel and walking back toward the kitchens.

Mark and I shared a look.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I asked, slightly irritated at the waiter's behavior.

My boyfriend just shrugged. "Maybe they don't want you to know that they secretly put, like, frog intestines in it. I mean, you _are_ magical."

I frowned, but didn't reply. That was a possibility.

Mark kind of laughed. "Ginny, you're supposed to deny that," he said. "Don't tell me they actually use frog intestines to cook with."

"Not frog intestines, necessarily," I denied quickly, "because those are mostly for potions –"

"Potions?" Mark yelped, interrupting me. "You _actually _make potions?"

" – but I suppose there could be some kind of similar element used," I continued as though I had not been interrupted. I stared at my salad for a moment, debating whether or not a nasty ingredient was going to keep me from eating it, but then decided it was too delicious to pass up and stabbed my fork into the leafy mess once again.

Mark blinked at me, but didn't say anything as he picked up his fork and began picking at his own salad.

"Are you going to eat that?" I asked after a few moments of silence between us. Mark had been poking an olive around with his fork instead of eating it.

He merely shrugged at me and continued prodding the olive.

I frowned at him, but didn't question it. I listened to the band playing a song that I recognized from the radio even though didn't know the real artist.

I finished my salad and made some small talk with Greyson Moore about – what else – Quidditch. In my head, I was having one of those moments like: Oh my gosh am I actually talking to Greyson Moore right now? Is he really asking me how the new Harpies team is shaping up? IS THIS REAL LIFE?

But of course, I kept my cool on the outside. I was really good at doing that.

Or at least, I used to be.

Mark didn't say much until the waiter came around once again and gave us plates that were already filled with our main course. It was chicken covered in this delicious mushroom sauce stuff, and rice and corn and bread and this weird but awesome pumpkin mush and it was all _so good_. No one at the table really said much as we all stuffed our faces with the delectable meal until the band on the stage began to play _Like You Used To_ by the Switchblade Kittens.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the Switchblade Kittens are my favorite Wizarding Wrock band. Ever. They were a very odd-sounding band, which made their music little-known and unpopular. I had never met someone who liked the Switchblade Kittens outside of the concert I attended a few years ago.

"Oh, my God, I _love this song!_" I shouted at the same time as someone else at the table.

I looked around for a moment, trying to figure out who had spoken. Across the table, Meredith was doing the same.

"Wait…" she said slowly. Her voice was very high-pitched, and I then realized that I had never actually heard Meredith speak before. "You like the Switchblade Kittens?"

I nodded, vaguely remembering an awkward conversation with Harry at his lake house where he had mentioned Meredith liking the same band I did.

Meredith placed both hands on the table and grinned. "No way," she said. "This is so neat! I've never met anyone who knows who they are, let alone likes their music!"

I tried to keep the scoff out of my voice as I replied, "They're my favorite band."

"Me, too!" Meredith said happily. "Did you go to their concert a few years ago at the Wrock Conference Center?"

I nodded, and Meredith clapped her hands together. "I did, too! They were _so_ good, and I was so excited when they played their song _Devil's Snare of a Life_ because it's my favorite, and it's their most unpopular song out of all their unpopular songs!"

I gasped. "_Devil's Snare of a Life_ is your favorite song? No way! That's my favorite song!"

Meredith kind of squealed and grinned, and though I felt like I was betraying myself, I beamed back. When two girls bond over a love for their favorite band, there's really nothing you can do to keep yourself from fan-girling.

And fan-girl we did.

"_I'm suffocatinggggggg, help me outttttt,_" we sang together, badly, "_this Devil's Snare of a life is causing me to doubttttttttttt; do I love you? Do I dare? I'm choking on the darkness, I really need some airrrrrrr!_"

We finished the chorus in a fit of giggles. Mark laughed at me, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry sitting there staring at me and his girlfriend with his brow furrowed in confusion.

Newsflash to Mr. Potter: I was confused, too.

"Merlin, those lyrics are genius," Meredith commented after we had settled.

"Most definitely," I agreed. "Jacob is a magnificent songwriter."

"Who's your favorite member of the band?" Meredith asked. "Mine is definitely Jacob," she continued, referring to the adorable lead singer for the band.

"I love Jacob!" I said, "Actually, I love them all, but my favorite is Austin, for sure."

"Austin?" Meredith grinned at the thought of the cute and edgy bassist. "He is so _cute_!"

I laughed. "Tell me about it! I'm, like, in love with him!"

"I know the feeling!" Meredith laughed. "When Jacob hit that high note in _Ennervate_ at the concert –" she paused to fan herself dramatically "– I think my heart stopped beating for a minute."

"Every word that comes out of Jacob's mouth makes my heart stop beating," I said. I smiled for a moment, listening to the band that was playing on the stage. "This is the best part of the song!"

As the singer of the band sang, Meredith and I sang with him at a much quieter volume and with more giggling amidst the lyrics.

"_Why can't we go back to the love we had beforeeeeeeee,"_ we sang with the band, "_I've been Stupefied in love and I don't think I can go back nowwwwwww... I just can't love you like I used toooooo..._"

We giggled some more together as the band on the stage completed the final instrumental part of the song and then moved on to their next song, a slow melody that I did not recognize.

"I have a few posters of them in my room," Meredith said to me, "and some posters I have two of the same. Would you like to come to my flat tomorrow and take them?"

I froze. Me, going over to Meredith's house? Meredith, Harry's girlfriend? The girl that I called a cow and a whore and a skank? The girl that I wanted to shove off Big Ben and shave her boobs off with a bulldozer?

But, I did love the Switchblade Kittens so much… and all the band members were so attractive… and I really did want the posters…

"Seems legit," I shrugged. "All right. Just leave your info with me later on."

Meredith grinned. "Great!" she said.

I smiled at her, internally reassuring myself that this did not mean I was becoming friends with Harry's slutty girlfriend.

She wasn't really that slutty, though… I mean, she had perfect skin. And she was tall and had perfectly tanned legs. And so what if she had big boobs? If you got it for sale, show it off you know what I'm sayin'?

And – all right, so _maybe_ I hated her because I was a wee bit jealous… But that wasn't the only reason.

Was it?

Either way, I was going to her flat tomorrow. From there… well, I'll just see what happens.

The rest of the meal passed without anything remotely interesting happening. Harry had a nice chat across the table with Corey Bunt, the Beater for the Tornadoes, about neat ways to grill fish Muggle-style. Halfway through the conversation, Mark decided to chime in (face-palm, I know) with commentary about a cool sauce to try when grilling trout. His input was met with an enthusiastic response from Corey, who began questioning Mark about other interesting cooking techniques, and a glare from Harry, who I got the sense did not warm up to Mark and did not want to.

It irritated me though. I kinda-sorta warmed up to Meredith, couldn't he do the same?

I had just eaten my last bite of chicken when Mark suddenly asked me to dance. Looking at the dance floor, I saw that it was already buzzing with activity. I spotted Grace and Louis dancing together off to the side, and I smiled to myself. It was obvious that Grace was totally into her brother's friend, and I was pretty sure Louis was into her as well, but he just needed to get a move on and do something about it.

"Sure," I said to Mark, taking his hand and allowing him to lead me onto the dance floor.

The band was playing a slower song, so Mark slipped his hands around my waist and I knotted mine around his neck.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely beautiful?"

"Yep."

"Good." Mark smiled that heart-stopping smile. "'Cause you do."

"Mhmm."

"More beautiful than any other woman in the room."

"Keep 'em coming," I said, grinning.

"I will if you kiss me," Mark teased.

I pretended to think about his proposal. "Nope."

He pouted. "Why?"

"Because I already _know_ I'm beautiful," I stated, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you now?" Mark leaned in closer so that our foreheads were touching. "Someone's being a bit cocky tonight, aren't they?"

"Meredith?" I asked, smirking.

Mark laughed. I closed the small distance between us and kissed him briefly on his lips. Mark smiled into the kiss, and leaned in to kiss me one more time before retreating to rest his forehead against mine once again. We kept up our steady swaying to the music.

"I love you," Mark said suddenly.

I froze.

"What?" I said stupidly.

Mark was quick to backtrack. "Nothing," he muttered, his cheeks turning a little bit pink.

"Oh, Mark," I said, feeling as embarrassed as he looked. "I'm sorry... but I'm not ready for that yet. We haven't been dating that long, and…" And I was in love with someone else. But instead of saying that, I let my sentence trial off into nothingness and looked at my feet.

"No, no, it's okay," Mark assured me. "I was out of order to say that, I'm sorry."

I sighed. "Mark, you shouldn't have to say sorry for telling me what you feel."

"I know," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

I sighed again and we continued to sway back and forth in a now very awkward embrace.

There was a tap on Mark's shoulder. He turned around to find Harry, who flashed him a smile that I knew to be fake.

"May I cut in?" he asked.

"Sure," Mark said, practically throwing me into Harry's arms. He wandered over to ask Meredith for a dance.

Harry was quick to imitate the position Mark and I were just in, though he held me at more of a distance than my boyfriend had. Feeling Harry's hands on my waist made my heart beat so quickly that I was positive Harry could feel it, and my stomach was performing somersaults. It did not help matters when Harry decided to give me a crooked smile, flashing me his white teeth that contrasted so much with his highly attractive stubble that surrounded the skin on his chin and neck.

"So," he began, "trouble in paradise?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You and your boyfriend," Harry clarified. "You two seemed tense."

"Oh," I said. I didn't really want to get into the details of my romantic life with Mark at that moment with _Harry Potter_, of all people, so I just said, "Nothing, really. Mark just said something that he probably should have kept to himself for a while."

I was not expecting Harry to respond, and he didn't. Harry knew that if someone wanted to keep something to themselves, it was their choice and they would share their thoughts if they wanted to and when they wanted to.

"How's Ron and Hermione doing?" I asked conversationally.

Harry chuckled. "They bicker like they've been married for seventy years or something. Sometimes it's amusing, but mostly I tell them to just get a room."

"Sexual tension, eh?"

"Mostly," Harry grinned. I glanced down at my legs to make sure they were still there and not a puddle of lovesick goo on the floor. "Speaking of, how do you like Meredith?"

I raised one eyebrow. "Speaking of?" I said, scoffing. "Talks of sexual tension led to Meredith? Geez, Harry, what have you two been doing in your spare time?"

Harry's uncomfortable expression was funny enough to squelch the jealousy that sprang up in my stomach at the thought of Meredith and Harry sleeping together.

"I – we – it's not like that," Harry stuttered.

"Uh-huh," I said skeptically.

"No, really, I don't want – I'm going to – I think that – oh, why am I talking to you about this? We haven't had sex. But how about you and Mark?"

I was relieved to hear that he and Meredith weren't screwing, at least according to Harry, and I was confident in my answer as I replied, "Harry, you know that I want to wait until I'm married."

"Oh, right."

Well, great. Bringing up a conversation that Harry and I had while we had been together probably wasn't the greatest idea if I wanted to avoid yet _another_ awkward slow dance. We spun around together without saying anything for a moment.

"How do you like your teammates?" Harry asked.

I seized the opportunity for not-awkward conversation quickly. "I like them a lot," I said happily. "Well, Geraldine Stump is kind of terrifying, and I'm intimidated by Valmai Morgan a little bit just because she's _Valmai Morgan_, but other than that I really like everyone." I smiled at the thought of the team and their crazy bedazzling antics.

"You look happy," Harry commented.

I smiled a little bit. "I am. We've got a very strong team this year."

"I mean about more than just Quidditch, Ginny."

"Oh." I looked away, my eyes locking on Mark and Meredith who were dancing together. Something Mark said made Meredith laugh, and I felt a surge of affection for Mark. However, I felt no jealousy. Was that wrong of me?

"I'm confused," I said to Harry, looking back at his face. "What do you mean?"

His emerald eyes felt like they were staring into my soul. "I'm just saying that you seem happier than I've seen you in a while."

I didn't really know how to respond to that, so I just said, "Well, everything's been going right lately. I'm practically living with my two best friends, I'm on the Holyhead Harpies – impressing _Gwenog Jones_ in the process – I've got Mark, and you, and Ron and Hermione and my family…"

"Yes…" Harry said slowly, looking at me. "You have great people surrounding you. And, Gin, don't ever forget that I'm there for you. If you ever need someone to talk to, or anything…"

He called me Gin. DOESN'T HE SEE WHAT HE DOES TO ME WHEN HE CALLS ME GIN? GREAT GODRIC, HARRY POTTER, STOP BEING SO IRRESISTABLE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL HEX YOU INTO NEXT WEEK.

Instead I just kind of smiled at him again – a close-lipped, awkward smile, sort of like the Mona Lisa or something – and said, "Same for you, Harry. I know you still have a lot going on, and you shouldn't keep it all bottled up inside. I know you have Ron and Hermione, but I'm always here, okay?"

Harry beamed at me. "Okay," he said, "I'll keep that in mind."

And OF COURSE when Harry smiles like that my knees decide I'm too fat to keep up so I practically fall over – actually, it was more of a stumble, but I accidentally stepped on Harry's feet in the process.

Harry was still laughing at my blunder when Mark came over and stole me back, telling me dessert was waiting for us back at the table. All earlier awkwardness forgotten at the mention of dessert, I followed Mark back to the table where we found a slice of fluffy strawberry pie sitting on a small plate in front of each chair. The other two couples besides Harry and Meredith were on the dance floor as well, so Mark and I were alone as we devoured our last course.

"You and Harry looked like you were having fun," Mark said easily, spearing a piece of pie and putting it in his mouth.

I nodded, swallowing the piece of pie I had just eaten. "Yeah," I said when I was done, "Harry and I have known each other for a long time. He's my brother's best friend."

Mark nodded slightly disinterestedly, and I asked, "You and Meredith seemed to get on pretty well, as well?"

"Oh, yeah, she was great," Mark said. I couldn't help the frown that fell across my face. I didn't want Mark to like Meredith. I didn't want _anyone_ to like Meredith. "She asked me what I did in the – what is it? Muggle? – in the Muggle world, and I told her about the _Times_. She asked me how we met, and I told her at a club."

I groaned. "That sounds so bad! We met at a club. I was trying to order the strongest drink I could find and you told me to take it easy!"

Mark laughed. "I think it's funny. Remember, we used all those great pick-up lines!"

I laughed, too. "Yeah, and then we danced dirty on the dance floor and I nearly passed out on you."

Mark grinned. "My sexiness was too much for you to handle. You couldn't help but swoon over me."

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled affectionately. "Yeah, that's it."

Mark and I finished our pie, and I took another sip of my wine. I'd had about three refills of wine tonight – hey, that pumpkin mush stuff made me really thirsty okay – but I wasn't feeling effected by the alcohol at all.

I was a tough drinker, what can I say?

Mark and I got up to dance some more. I danced for a brief point with Louis while Grace danced with Mark, and then the band began to play a really popular upbeat song, so Grace, Hayley, Gwyn and I danced around together and sang the words very loudly. I could tell Gwyn, who was naturally zany anyway, had had one too many glasses of wine, but of course if it made her night more fun, who cared?

Valmai and her fiancé, Monty, mostly danced together in their own little world and didn't talk to much anyone else. I even saw Geraldine and her date dancing at one point.

Mark and I meandered over to the drinks table, breathless from all our activity. Mark was in the process of pouring me some punch when Beth and her Muggle date wandered over. We made some small talk, mostly about how good the band was and if we were having fun. After finishing our drinks, the four of us went back out to the dance floor once the band had stated that they were about to play their last song of the night.

It was a slow song, so once again I found myself in Mark's arms, my head resting on his shoulder. I found myself thinking about his confession earlier. Did he really mean it when he said he loved me? Or was it just an in-the-moment kind of thing? Was it possible that someone else could feel the way about me that I feel about Harry?

It really sucked that Mark had said that though. Seriously. It made the whole guy-friend-who-I-called-my-boyfriend-but-he-was-really-just-a-best-friend-that-I-snogged-every-now-and-then thing a really difficult plan to carry out. Not to mention the fact that it made feel like complete dung that I was basically using him to make Harry jealous and to fill the whole that Harry had left gaping.

Well great, now I just felt like total shit.

"I had fun tonight," Mark said. I looked into his eyes and saw all the honesty there, and then I felt even worse. Should I lie to him? Should I tell him I love him too, even if I don't mean it?

"I did, too," I said, forcing a smile. "Thanks for being a great date."

Mark laughed. "I got free delicious food – how could I have said no?"

"You mean you got to spend the night with your super-mega-fox-awesome-hot girlfriend Ginny Weasley?"

"Oh, did I say something about food? My bad, what you said is what I meant to say. Sorry, food is just what came to mind first."

"Uh-huh."

"True story." Mark kissed me briefly on the lips, and then the song ended. People clapped and cheered for the band as they all came to the front of the stage and bowed.

"Thank you," the female lead singer said into her microphone. "We are Swimming with Squids, you were a great crowd, it was such an honor! We're all huge Quidditch fans, thank you for having us!"

We were still clapping as the band exited the stage and Seth Sockins took their place.

"I won't say much, but thank you all for coming tonight! I'm looking forward to a superb season this year, and I can't wait to see who makes it to the finals! Have a great rest of the night, and stay safe!"

People clapped once more for Seth, and then everyone began trying to maneuver their way toward the exit.

"Ginny!" I heard someone calling. I turned around to find Meredith coming towards me, brandishing a piece of paper. When she reached me, she smiled. "Here's directions on how to Apparate to my flat," she said. "You can come any time you want."

I took the paper from her. "Thanks," I said. I suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe it was my thoughts about Mark that made me feel so down all of a sudden, but all I really wanted to do was go home – home, like to the Burrow home – and curl up on the couch in front of the fire and wake up to Mum's cooking. Instead, I faced Meredith and tried to keep the small smile on my face so that I didn't look too rude.

"Anything for another Switchblade Kittens fan," Meredith said. Harry appeared behind her and she linked her arm through his. My gaze flashed down to the interaction, but I kept my face neutral even as my insides were squirming with jealousy. "You know how their fans come so far and few!"

"Ha ha," I said, laughing tiredly. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Harry looked at me with a bemused expression before tugging on Meredith's arm. "Come on, Mere, let's get you home," he said, leading his girlfriend away. I smiled goodbye to them just as I felt someone tugging on my elbow.

"Ginny, guess what," Grace said, sounding breathless.

"What?"

"Louis has just asked me if I wanted to stay the night at his place!"

I frowned. "Grace, be smart about this," I cautioned. "Don't do anything you'll regret later."

Grace sighed and gave me a small smile. "Ginny, I want this," she said in a small voice. "I've wanted this for a long time. I'm ready."

I smiled at her, showing her my teeth and trying to look as sincere as I felt despite my fatigue. "Then go get 'em, tiger," I said, punching her lightly in the shoulder and winking.

Grace turned pink, but grinned nonetheless and turned away to take Louis' hand. I was happy for them. Just because I didn't want to have sex until I was married didn't mean everyone else had to make the same decision.

"Ginny, you seem really tired," Mark said, frowning slightly. "We should definitely get you home."

I tried to show my gratitude to him through my smile, but I was suddenly so exhausted that I don't think I did much of anything other than grimace.

Mark chuckled at me and put his hands on my hips in order to guide me through the throng of people wading toward the exit. Once we were outside, I took Mark's hand and Side-Along Apparated him back to Summer's flat.

"Goodnight, Mark," I mumbled, pausing before going up the steps to my room.

"Goodnight," Mark replied quietly, kissing my forehead softly. "Thank you."

I might've mumbled a "thank you" in response, but I didn't think much about it as Mark watched me crawl up the steps using both my hands and feet. Once in my room, I threw off the green dress and climbed into bed naked, Mark's laughter being the last thing I remembered before I fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry. Long story short : 1D Takeover, seriously. But I'm writing the next chapter RIGHT NOW even though it's 1 in the morning.  
sorry for any grammar mistakes  
HEY pleaseeeeeee follow me on **Tumblr**! I like to think I have a decent blog **dontworryyourselves  
**pleaseandthankyou  
review  
goodbye

okay let's get something straight here. In my world, Ginny didn't sleep with lots of guys at Hogwarts. She dated them and toyed with their emotions and teased them - that's not the same as having sex with them. And Ginny doesn't exactly "pine" after Harry... they're both kind of using each other for the chase. And I know that all you girls know that once you're in love with a boy... there's no stopping you. You'll do anything to get them back. So I think that Ginny's actions are fairly realistic, at least according to how things work around where I live and in my life. Okay so that is all. Rant over.


	19. More To Me

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter

I have 15 Mondays left in high school ever - forgive me for uploading this so late - I'm applying for a Creative Writing major - hope this chapter's all right - bless u all

* * *

_That's why it's hard for me to end all the countless hours I would spend  
Making it work out up in my head.  
Now I'm filled up with only regret  
There is no way to just forget._

-More to Me – Balance and Composure

* * *

I took a deep breath before knocking on the apartment door that Meredith had told me was hers. It was a very nice complex, and of course it lived up to my expectations of where I imagined someone like Meredith to live. However, once Meredith opened the door, I found that the inside was the complete opposite of how I had pictured it.

"Don't mind the mess," Meredith said apologetically after I had stepped over the threshold.

"Of course not," I replied distractedly.

The floor was nearly invisible under piles of clothes, Styrofoam coffee cups, books, and old Chinese take-out boxes. Her couch was covered by a large and comfortable-looking beige blanket, and a chunky Muggle television was set up on a coffee table against the wall. Pictures lined the walls: some were framed, some were Polaroids, and others were moving. They were photos of Meredith with her twin sister (whose name I forgot), her family, random boys, and groups of people that I recognized to be band members. Scattered among these pictures were posters from various concerts, locations, and obscure bands. However, I was able to identify a lot of these bands, because I listened to a lot of them myself.

"Follow me!" Meredith said, interrupting my examination of the room. I looked at her and did as she said, trailing behind her as she led me down a hallway.

I used the moment to look at what she was wearing: a simple black tank top and some denim shorts. Her hair was up in a ponytail, although she was still wearing red lipstick.

I followed Meredith into what I assumed was her bedroom, which looked much the same as the rest of the house. A bookshelf occupied most of the wall, and her bed was covered in even more clothes, most of which I noted to be black. I hardly saw any bright colors in any of the piles.

What happened to that nauseating pink shirt she wore to Harry's lake house party? I pictured Meredith as being really preppy and fake. Was this the real Meredith? _Hipster_?

Wow. What a plot twist.

Meredith walked over to her overflowing closet and pulled a chain, flicking on a fluorescent light. She stood on her tip-toes and began rummaging around on the top shelf.

I looked around some more, admiring all the items on her wall. One poster in particular caught my eye.

"No way," I gasped, moving closer to it to get a better look, "you listen to Meet Me at the Tower?"

"Yeah," Meredith said distractedly.

"_And_ you listen to Pure Green and Grey? But they're a hardcore Wrock band!"

Meredith finally found what she was looking for and tugged a rolled-up poster from the shelf. "Yeah," she said, "I dated the lead singer for five months."

My jaw dropped. "No way," I said again.

She nodded, handing me the poster. My mouth was still wide open when I unraveled the poster and saw the members of the Switchblade Kittens staring back at me. My favorite member of the band, Austin, was clutching a tricked-out white bass and was frowning in his usual "hardcore" way.

"Oh, I love it!" I said, smiling. "Thank you."

"No problem," Meredith said.

She was staring at me in a way that made me feel really uncomfortable. I was in a hurry to leave – because I didn't want something crazy to happen like become friends with her – so I kind of smiled at her and tried to rush out the door. In my urgency, my foot caught on the hood of a sweatshirt on the floor and I went crashing face-first to the ground, sacrificing my comfort in order to save the poster from getting squished.

"Ugh," I groaned, rolling over onto my back. "My boobs."

Meredith was trying to stifle her laugh. She walked over and offered her hand to me, but I ignored it like the bitch that I am and got up on my own.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

"Just fine," I mumbled awkwardly. "You should probably start cleaning soon," I added, "doesn't your sister live with you or something?"

Meredith shrugged. "Morgan technically lives with me, but she's never here. She crashes with random boys or with her girlfriends most nights."

"Oh," I said. So Morgan was Thing 2's name. Good to know, I suppose.

"Yeah." Meredith kicked a nearby beanie to the side and didn't look at me as she said, "I haven't talked to my sister since Harry's party. Even while we were there she didn't talk to me, she was too busy sleeping with Matthew Caldwell. She hasn't been home in over seven months."

I suddenly felt really bad for calling Meredith a Bludgers-For-Brains and a slut and stuff, because here she was, standing in front of me being all emotional and hipster and stuff and I was just standing beside her like _lolz thx for da poster gurl ill see you l8r_. Also, in light of this confession I remembered Ron and Hermione's conversation at Harry's party, when they said they had seen Meredith in bed with someone named Matthew Caldwell. They hadn't seen Meredith, they had actually seen Morgan. I had the urge to send a letter to Ron and Hermione to try and clear Meredith's name.

Wait, what?

Was I trying to defend Meredith? Harry's girlfriend? The one I hated?

"I'm kind of scared for her," Meredith continued in a shaky voice, interrupting my thoughts. Before I knew it, tears were leaking out of her eyes and she was sniffling and I didn't know what to do. I just walked closer to her and kind of put my arm around her, and in response she curled into my chest and began shaking with sobs. I had no choice but to hold her a little bit closer and rub her back. I didn't know how to handle crying people. I just don't _do_ tears.

I just let Meredith cry herself out on my shoulder as if the situation wasn't the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to me. It wasn't even eleven o'clock in the morning yet. Oh boy.

In an attempt to comfort her, I said, "At least Morgan not coming home is your biggest problem, right?"

That was the TOTAL WRONG THING TO SAY. I was trying to be optimistic, okay? Optimism had never really been my thing, but I tried, all right? Gold star for Ginny!

Meredith's tears came fresh again. "No!" she sobbed. "Morgan never comes home, and Daddy is sick, and everyone thinks I'm a whore, and I think Harry's going to break up with me soon, and all his friends hate me!"

I was so bewildered by this confession that the only thing I could manage was, "Harry's going to break up with you?"

Meredith sniffled and pulled away from me, wiping her eyes with her hand. She nodded. "He gave me access to his vault at the bank. Morgan found the key somehow – I don't know how, I think she came by the flat to pick up some stuff maybe – and she's been using a lot of his money. Also, he's been acting really distant lately and we've been fighting about nothing a lot."

I pursed my lips and tried to nod sympathetically.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" Meredith asked me suddenly.

YES, I wanted to shout, but I figured now was not the time. "I, er, I, uh, think you're quite pretty…" I said.

Meredith snorted. "I knew it. You think I'm a slut."

"That's not true," I started to deny, but Meredith cut me off.

"It is," she said. "That's okay. I think I am sometimes, too."

In my wildest dreams, I hadn't imagined Meredith to be so confident and insecure at the same time.

I sighed. "Meredith, you're not a slut," I said. "You dress like one sometimes, but now that I've talked to you…"

"Those are my sister's clothes," Meredith explained. "Last spring, Daddy told me to stop wearing so much black and dark clothing. I wasn't, like, a death sister or anything; I just liked dark, vintage clothes better. But now every time I go out, I dress in bright colors – my sister's style – to please him."

"Hmm," I said. "What's wrong with your father?"

"The Healers aren't sure. They just know that whatever it is will probably be terminal."

I "Hmm"ed again, my wanna-be-Healer brain kicking into high gear as Meredith began crying again. She fluttered her hands around her face, desperately trying to ward off the tears.

"I'm not usually this emotional," she said, laughing a little through her tears.

"It's all right, we all have those days," I said. "Well, I don't, actually, but most other people do. You just need to talk it out with your girlfriends or something, you'll be okay."

"I don't have any girlfriends," Meredith admitted quietly.

"What?" I said, sure I'd misheard.

"I said, I don't have any friends," she repeated. "All I have is my music, my old ex-boyfriends, Harry, and now you."

To say that I now felt uncomfortable would be a tremendous understatement. Me and Meredith _were not_ friends. We never would be.

And how could someone like Meredith have no friends? That was such a huge shock to me that I nearly wanted to scream at her and call her a liar. Then I realized that in all the pictures on the walls, there were none of Meredith with a group of girls.

I had a fleeting thought of showing Meredith to Amy and Summer and hoping they became friends, but in all honesty I wanted to keep these two parts of my life separate. I didn't want them to like each other, just in case I decide Meredith is a cow again and I force Summer and Amy to have to pick a side or whatever.

_What's life without a little bullshit, eh, Ginny?_

"Yeah," I said to Meredith, planting a smile on my face. "Well, it was great coming over today. Thanks for the poster."

Meredith beamed. "Anything for a friend," she said.

I half-smiled half-grimaced at her and bolted out of the room, shouting goodbyes as I dodged empty pizza boxes and flung open the front door.

I Apparated back to Summer's, entering through the back door to find Amy sitting at the kitchen table eating some cereal.

"Hey!" she said, looking startled.

"Hi," I said.

"Summer is still asleep," Amy told me.

"Okay."

"No, I'm not!" Summer sang, suddenly bursting into the room. "Good morning everyone!"

Amy furrowed her brown. "Why are you so happy?" she asked.

"_Because_ this week's issue of _Quidditch Weekly_ comes today!" Summer replied. "And since it's the day after the banquet, I get to look at pictures of dishy Quidditch players in nice suits and judge the girls who bought ratchet dresses!"

"I hope I'm not in it," I said, laughing.

"Probably not," Summer said. "Let's be honest, Ginny, you're pretty irrelevant."

"Good!" I smiled.

It was quiet while Summer made herself coffee and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen looking at my shoes, thinking of nothing in particular.

"Ginny, why is your shirt wet?" Amy asked.

I glanced down at my shirt. And there it was, Meredith's puddle of tears, staining the blue on my shirt a darker shade until it dried.

"I ran into a tree branch," I lied. "It rained last night, so the branch was wet."

Amy raised one eyebrow, but accepted my story with no more questions. I sat down beside her at the table and ate the rest of her cereal. Summer tapped her fingers against the counter impatiently, waiting for her coffee to finish dripping into her mug. I could hear the television making noise from the next room over, but I couldn't make out what it was saying.

I thought about how Quidditch would be starting tomorrow and I was nervous as hell. What if I screwed up? Would they kick me off the team? What if I didn't get any better, or if my audition was just a fluke of adrenaline?

I kept repeating the "what if"s in my head until Summer's cry pierced my thoughts.

"It's here!" she said, throwing the window open so the owl could fly in. She gave it a Sickle and practically ripped the magazine off its leg. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie!"

She unrolled the magazine and there it was, on the front page: "Harry Potter brings girlfriend Meredith Carr to League ball! See page 57!"

The headline was accompanied by a large moving picture of Harry and Meredith on the carpet outside the Marsher Center.

What.

What. Is. Air. Harry. Looked. So. Damn. Good. Oh. My. Merlin. I. Can't. Breathe.

Harry's arm was linked with Meredith's, but he was flashing the camera a lopsided smirk that made me want to crawl into a lovesick hole, and his hair was a bit tousled from the wind. Not to mention his debonair attire that he had somehow put together. Meredith was actually looking pretty classy in her black dress (and I'm not even being sarcastic, I'm afraid) and was smiling politely to the paparazzi.

"Ugh," I groaned, putting my head in my hands.

"I'm not going to lie, Harry looks pretty damn good," Summer commented.

I glared at her.

"Too soon?" she asked innocently.

I nodded in response and took the magazine from her, ignoring her protests. Also on the cover was: "Marlee Thorington and Jessica Guice in the same dress – which do you like best? Page 18!" "Seth Sockins predicts this year's Cup winner! Page 32!" and "Ginny Weasley: who is her unnamed dishy date? Page 76!"

"OH MY MERLIN I'M ON THE COVER," I screeched, flipping to page 76 as quickly as I could.

Sure enough, there was a two-page spread about Mark and I, the first page being three pictures of us. All of the pictures were moving, which normally wouldn't be weird but it was since I was looking at pictures of myself in a big-time sports magazine.

The biggest picture was vertical, and was a picture that I didn't know was being taken of Mark and I kissing before we walked onto the carpet where most of the media were. How could I _not_ have seen this being taken? The other two pictures were smaller and horizontal, placed to the right of the bigger picture. They were of the two of us holding hands on the carpet. Mark's dimpled smile was endearing and his icy blue eyes showed no sign of the nervousness I knew he was feeling – he looked like he was trying to give the photographer a little slice of sexy. Beside him, there was someone who looked very much like me but only more beautiful – the green of the dress, the red of my hair, and the gold accents made me look like a movie star. That was the point, I suppose.

The headline of the article read: "Ginny Weasley: Who Is Her Sexy Date?"

_Ginny Weasley, daughter and sister of the well-known Weasley family (War heroes) and ex-girlfriend to the one and only Harry Potter (and many others, so we hear) arrived at the League Ball wearing a stunning green Muggle gown – and accompanied by an even more eye-catching Muggle date. Miss Weasley and her date, who we are assuming is her boyfriend due to their kissing display before their carpet debut, did not answer any questions last night: but don't worry, _Quidditch Weekly _will be getting to the bottom of this mystery in the near future! _

_Ginny Weasley is the newest Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, with her phenomenal performance at her audition earning her the well-deserved spot. We have high hopes for her and the team this year – as well as high hopes for her fashion sense and her relationship! Be on the look-out for more on this up-and-coming star in later issues._

I finished reading the article with my mouth wide open. _Quidditch Weekly_ wrote something somewhat-nice about me… it was a feeling that, apparently, I was going to have to get used to. Despite the fact that the article was mainly about Mark and how good-looking he was, it was still odd to see my name in print like that.

Summer ripped the magazine away once she saw that I was done, and she and Amy bent over to read the article. Once they finished, they wore the same expression as me.

"Merlin," Summer said slowly, "my best friend is, like, famous."

"So is Mark!" Amy said. "Well, kind of. He's known for being unknown."

Summer stared at me for a moment before she shook her head and flipped to the front of the magazine. "Whatever. This is just too weird. I'm just going to keep reading the magazine as if you're not in it."

Amy and I laughed, and we all went our separate ways. Summer left to the living room, Amy returned to her bowl of cereal, and I went upstairs to my room. I shut the door and flopped onto the bed, staring at the walls that were the same color as Harry's eyes.

I stared at the wall for a while, before I heard a tapping coming from the window. I glanced around to see an owl perched on the sill outside, a letter clutched in its beak. Just as I rose from the bed to open the window, the doorbell rang from the front door downstairs.

"I'll get it!" I heard Amy call.

I opened the window and the owl flew in, dropping the letter on the bed. I fed it some of the owl treats that I kept on the dresser and it hooted at me and flew away. The letter had my name written on it in unrecognizable girly writing, and part of me hoped it was Meredith while the other part (the normal part) of me desperately hoped it wasn't.

"Knock, knock," someone said, opening the door to my room.

"Oh, hi, Mark," I said, glancing at the door. I put the letter away in a dresser drawer, ignoring the burning curiosity of who it could be from.

Mark grinned at me, entering the room and closing the door. He clutched a large brown paper bag in his hands.

"I brought you something," he said, rattling the bag before setting it down on the bed. He then proceeded to reach inside and pull out two Burger King boxes and two pouches overflowing with French fries.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, lunging for the box of nuggets.

Mark began laughing at me. "I knew you'd be excited. I wanted to do something special and Burger King is like _our thing_, you know?"

"Yeah…" I said. I picked up one of the fun-shaped nuggets and popped it into my mouth. Mark and I sat in silence for a while, and my mind began wandering back to me worrying about the first day of practice tomorrow. From there, my thoughts went to the article in _Quidditch Weekly_, which led to thoughts of Meredith, which led to thoughts of Harry. Ugh. This was terrible.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked, looking concerned. He scooted a little closer to me on the bed.

I folded my legs up under me, hoping Mark might get the message that I wasn't really in the mood to be too close to him right now. I shrugged, and Mark prodded me until I told him.

"Well, Quidditch practice starts tomorrow," I admitted, leaving out the majority of my thoughts. "I'm just nervous, is all."

"You'll do great, baby," he said. I frowned when he moved even closer.

"Mark…" I tried to shove him away.

"Come on, Gin," he said, smirking, "you know you want to kiss me."

My mouth dropped open and my cheeks flushed with anger. "Okay, _first_," I said dangerously, holding up one finger, "do _not_ call me Gin. And _second_, you have _no right_ to determine what you think I want and do not want to do."

Mark rolled his pretty blue eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

I shoved him away from me, scowling. When he continued to look unperturbed, I threw my chicken nugget at him. He laughed at me.

Hearing his laugh, I unthawed my Ice Queen attitude a little bit. I exhaled slowly and tried to smile apologetically. "Sorry," I said, "I'm just not in a good mood right now."

"That's why I brought you Burger King."

I raised my eyebrows. "Uh-huh," I said disbelievingly.

"Honest!" Mark held up his hands, his smirk back in place. "I knew your first practice for Quidditch or whatever is tomorrow, so I decided this was the least I could do."

I smiled at him for real and kissed his cheek briefly. Mark turned his face toward me, trying to catch my lips, but I suddenly gasped and said, "Be right back!"

I left my boyfriend sitting perplexedly on the bed as I ran downstairs and grabbed Summer's copy of _Quidditch Weekly_. I sprinted back up the stairs, taking them two at a time so that I was panting by the time I reached my bedroom. I chucked the magazine at Mark's head.

"What the – what's this?" he spluttered, staring at the cover. "Ginny, these pictures are moving!"

I rolled my eyes as he continued to blink at the magazine. "Hey –" he said, "hey this is the Harry bloke we met last night!"

Snorting at his casual use of Harry's name – _that Harry bloke_, honestly – I moved to sit beside him on the bed. I watched as Mark's eyes skimmed the cover and then widen when he saw the headline about us. He flipped to the page, his jaw dropping once he saw the pictures of us.

"This is bloody freaky," he said, blinking at the moving picture of us kissing. "How do you get them to move like that?"

"Magic, Mark," I said loudly. He laughed, a little shakily. I could see how he would be freaked out.

We sat in silence while he read the article. I didn't look at him, looking at my feet instead and thinking about Meredith and Morgan and Harry and all their drama. To me, Meredith just seemed like too much baggage for Harry to handle. He didn't need someone who was so screwed up.

But then again, wasn't I just as bad? I mean, I was basically using my current boyfriend to get back at my ex-boyfriend. That was pretty sick. Don't get me wrong, I loved being with Mark. And kissing him was nice. But he wasn't Harry.

Frowning, I glanced at Mark again. He was almost to the end of the article. I bit my lip in anticipation for his reaction, but to my surprise, he burst out laughing.

"I'm 'eye-catching,'" Mark quoted between chuckles. "Wow, this is great."

I merely blinked at him. "There is definitely something wrong with you," I said. "Your reactions to everything are all wrong."

He started laughing at me. I huffed in annoyance and folded my arms across my chest.

"Something wrong with _me_?" he said, laughing incredulously. "_You're_ a witch! You brew potions! You fly on broomsticks! The only thing wrong with _me_, obviously, is that I'm too good-looking for you magic folks to behold."

He clutched at his sides, howling with laughter.

"You're the only one who thinks it's funny," I growled, narrowing my eyes.

"Oh, come on, baby –" Mark reached out and tried to touch my arm. I jerked out of his way, standing up and moving to lean against the wall on the other side of the room.

"Don't call me baby," I snapped.

"Then what am I supposed to call you, exactly?" Mark drawled sarcastically. "You won't let me call you 'Gin' either, so what shall it be? Your Highness? Queen Bitch? Or – this is a good one – how about Hecate?"

I glared at him coldly. "Keep that up, and you can call me 'Ex-Girlfriend.'"

Mark's eyes narrowed and he put a mocking hand to his heart. "Ouch," he said sardonically.

"Just get out." I pointed to the door. "Don't come over tomorrow. Thanks for the food."

Mark stood up, hesitated for a moment, and then snatched the Burger King bag off the bed. He shot a leer at me and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

I sat down on the bed, glaring at the walls. I felt mad at everything. Actually, I was less mad than _frustrated_. I rubbed my hands over my face, and got up off the bed and grabbed my broomstick. I slung it over my shoulder and trudged out the door, down the steps, and out into Summer's backyard.

I flew around for a while, just enjoying the feel of the wind in my air and the whistling in my ear. My thoughts flickered from Mark, to Harry, to Quidditch, to my friends, to my family. I thought about Charlie. I thought about my feelings toward Meredith. I thought about the future. And I thought about the past.

I thought about Fred. I really missed him. He and George never failed to make me laugh. I tried to imagine what he would say to me if he saw me right now. He'd probably crack some corny joke about my fight with Mark, something like, "Why are you dating such a chicken nugget anyway? You know, Lee Jordan has always been available…" and then he'd wink at me while George wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and I'd giggle and shove their shoulders, grinning.

I remembered that one time when I was eight when Fred and George had tied a bunch of blankets together end-by-end and then tied one end to the back of a chair. They made three of these contraptions and hung them out the window in the attic, tying the other end of the blankets to something heavy in the room so that the chairs were hanging against the wall of the house outside. They invited me to sit with them, and so we sat together outside in chairs suspended by blankets and watched as Ron and Bill were put on gnome duty in the backyard. Of course, Mum found us, and so the three of us did the only practical thing: we jumped. From the attic window. Before we could hit the ground, however, Fred grabbed me around the middle and rolled midair so that he landed on his back in the yard, with me on top of him. I didn't get hurt at all, but Fred bruised his tailbone pretty bad.

I remembered the time he and George helped me fly. I remembered how he taught me how to launch peas at Percy with my spoon, and then when Percy tattled on us, Fred would always take the blame for me. I remembered how and George would write me letters from Hogwarts before I was eleven, and they would include hysterical drawings of our brothers and the teachers at school. I remembered how the night I got sorted into Gryffindor, George congratulated me and Fred told me he was proud to be my brother and they both bear-hugged me.

Fred had always been there for me. He and George would listen to me when I vented to them about my second-year problems (including, but not limited to, Harry freaking Potter), and they would show me secret passages to help me get to class quicker. Fred was the one who held my hand during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, when I thought Harry had drowned underwater and I'd never see him again. He was the one who sent me Honeyduke's chocolates after my first real boyfriend broke up with me, while George sent me some gorgeous flowers.

I missed him so much. And I hadn't seen George in forever, either. I wasn't even sure what he was doing right now. How was he holding up without his other half? Was the joke shop still thriving, even after the War?

I continued thinking along these lines until it got dark. The sound of my name being called sharply ripped me out of my memories.

I looked down to the ground, where Summer was looking up at me with her hands on her hips. I smiled sheepishly at her.

"Hi," I said loudly.

Summer had to raise her voice for me to hear her over the wind. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she snapped. "Why did Mark storm out of here?"

I jerked my broom into a sudden sharp U-turn. "Summer, that was hours ago."

"Amy wanted me to give you some space."

"Thanks, Amy," I said quietly to myself. I rocketed upward into a vertical climb, stopping once I reached tree-level to flip over and down in a maneuver that Harry had taught me at the lake.

"Ginny, come down," Summer ordered. I slowly did what she said, but I didn't get off my broom. Instead, I just hovered above the ground, my toes skimming the grass.

"Mark and I got in a fight," I admitted.

"What about?"

"I don't even know." I flew a few circles around Summer, ignoring her eye-roll. "Something stupid."

"Okay," Summer said slowly. I knew she wanted more details, but I wasn't about to give them to her. "Well, Ben and Katlyn are coming over for lunch tomorrow. What time is your practice?"

"Uh, I think it starts at ten."

Summer frowned a little, and I did, too. I loved Summer's brother, Ben. He always made ginger jokes at me, and his wife, Katlyn, would tell him he was rude but laugh at him nonetheless. He treated me like another little sister, and he could always make me laugh, just because he was so goofy.

"Hmm," Summer said. "Maybe I can stall them into staying until you get home from practice. I'm sure Ben will want to talk about your try-outs with you." She rolled her eyes.

I smiled, but it didn't really reach my eyes. Practice lasted until five tomorrow, but I didn't want to dash Summer's hopes. So I just hopped off my broom and wandered inside, aware of Summer following me in.

I asked Splinty the house elf for some water, and he was back before Summer could get around to asking me any more questions about Mark. I mumbled something about a shower and retreated to my room, finishing my water before I got there. I had done more flying than I thought.

I set the empty cup on the dresser and opened the drawer where I had stored the letter earlier. I stared curiously at the handwriting again, but dismissed it and unrolled the parchment.

_Hi, Ginny!_ The letter read. Oh, great Godric, no. I glanced to the signature at the bottom of the letter: Cho Chang. Oh, no no no no no no no. _Just wanted to get back to you about that shopping trip we talked about at Harry's party! There are some GREAT Muggle stores here in London and I'd love to explore them with you! Also, we could chat a little bit about – _

I didn't bother reading the rest. No way in hell was I going shopping with Cho Chang. I would never put myself through _that_ awkward situation. Though she seemed much happier nowadays than she had been when she was at Hogwarts, I still didn't want her to cry all over me or make me talk about Harry or something. Just because we fought side-by-side in the War did _not_ mean we were friends.

She'd probably stuff me in some hideous romper anyways. I repeat: No way in hell was I going shopping with Cho Chang.

I folded the paper into halves and walked out the door and into the den, where Amy was sitting on the couch in front of the fire with a book.

"Hello," she said. "I heard you and Mark fighting, is everything all right?"

I frowned at her, but didn't answer as I trudged to the fire. I ripped the parchment into tiny pieces and threw them into the flames. I watched with satisfaction as the paper turned brown and shriveled up.

I turned around and walked out of the room again. I could hear Amy calling after me, but I didn't look back. I decided that I should burn things more often. Maybe that issue of _Quidditch Weekly_ with Harry shirtless on the cover would be next.

I knew I should feel guilty at blowing off someone like I just blew off Cho, but I didn't. I also should've been more attentive to one of my best friends when she was probably just trying to be me, but I wasn't.

Oh, well. I didn't even feel bad.

* * *

A/N: plz tell me what yall think ily ok

ps - I am obsessed with the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus series?! Mark of Athena? I just UGh

Songs: Call That A Comeback - You Me At Six; The Riff-Off - Pitch Perfect cast; Don't Let Me Cave In - The Wonder Years

plz review i love you all really i truly do despite the fact that i never update


	20. Skip the Charades

I apologize in advance for any tense shifts or whateva because those things are my weakness ok

PS JKR OWNS HP OK

* * *

_I'm the one that's acting like I'm so strong  
You're the one that's acting like nothing's wrong  
Can we skip the charades?  
Just speak plain._

-Skip the Charades – Cold War Kids

* * *

"Good morning!" Hayley Grissom chirped brightly at me the next morning at practice. I smiled in response, since it was hard not to do so when our Seeker was smiling like that, but I wasn't exactly having a good morning. Summer and Amy had kept pestering me this morning before I left the house about what happened last night with Mark; it go to the point where my mood was so bad that I just grabbed a banana and left the house to wander the neighborhood street alone until it was time to come to Quidditch practice.

Hayley was one of the few people who had donned her bedazzled sunglasses for practice this morning. The summer sun was already shining brightly despite the early hour – I was regretting leaving my pair back at Summer's. I didn't want to have to squint to see the Quaffle all day.

Gwyn Taylor, who was already wearing her Keeper pads, came bounding over at that moment. Her short blonde curls were bouncing around her face, and her sparkly pink sunglasses were catching the sunlight. The glasses, however, were nowhere near as bright as her smile.

"Ginny!" she said excitedly. "You look tired. Energy, energy, energy!" She put her hands on my shoulders and shook me around. "You'll need it for your FIRST EVER PRACTICE!"

I half smiled, half grimaced at her.

"That's the spirit!" she said, tapping me on the nose before sprinting away to bother Grace.

I looked around. Valmai and Beth were chatting together and twisting from side to side, trying to stretch out their muscles before they picked up their Beater bats. Geraldine Stump was sitting on one of the benches by herself, biting her nails. If I had been in a better mood, I might've gone to try and start a conversation, but I wasn't really feeling up to the struggle of trying to talk with someone who was so intimidating.

I stood around and stretched out my arms for a few minutes while Hayley chattered to me about her date to the ball the other night.

"…we had been dancing for, like, an hour before Timmy decided to get me some liquor. I was practically dying! But when we went over to the refreshments table, guess who we ran into? Harry Potter and his date! I know you two are friends or whatever, but it was still cool to meet him in person like that! Tim even asked for his autograph!"

"What?" My ears had abruptly tuned in to the conversation as soon as Harry's name was mentioned. I am so pathetic. "You talked to Harry?"

"Yeah!" said Hayley. "We talked about you for a moment. He said you were very good friends."

Very good friends. Yeah.

"Did he say anything else?" I asked.

"Not really. We talked about how good your audition was for a minute, but then Timmy cut in and started hero-worshipping Harry." Hayley rolled her eyes, tossing her dark curly bangs out of her face. "I mean really, Harry Potter is such a down-to-earth guy! Not at all what I would've expected from the Savior of the Wizarding World, and now soon-to-be Quidditch star."

"Heh…" I said. I was pretty sure I was going to start choking.

At that moment, Gwenog came strolling out onto the pitch, blowing her bedazzled whistle.

"Mount your brooms! Twenty-five laps, seven minutes. Then meet me in the center for warm-up instructions."

Confused, I swung a leg over my broom and kicked off. I hovered there for a moment before I followed the rest of the team as they quickly assembled a clump and began rocketing off in circles around the pitch.

This was nothing like Gryffindor Quidditch practices. Harry would make us do laps, of course, but never something as crazy as twenty-five around, under a time limit... of _seven minutes_ especially. It was difficult not to hit the teammates beside me going at such a quick speed when we were so close together.

Valmai was in the lead, and Geraldine was close behind her. I was trialing along at the back of the clump, still a lost little newbie. Grace, it seemed, was used to this kind of thing due to her old position on the reserve team. Everyone was wearing a determined expression. I was sure that I still looked lost, but I was quick to prove myself.

With a sudden burst of speed, I wove my way around Gwyn and Hayley, and squeezed myself in the gap between Geraldine and the side wall of the pitch. I found myself flying on Valmai's left in the lead.

I was panting with the effort it took to get here, but it was worth it when Valmai sent me a sycophantic nod. Grinning, Valmai and I led the rest of the team around the pitch for the next twenty-four laps.

A few minutes later, the team and I flew back to the ground and promptly collapsed off our brooms and onto the grass.

"None of that!" Gwenog said, blowing her whistle again. "Valmai and Beth – perform drill number twenty-six!" The two Beaters hurried off to release the Bludgers and do whatever drill number twenty six was. "Grissom! Practice that new dive roll we discussed – Chips Ahoy!" Hayley grinned at the manager and saluted before she climbed onto her broom and rocketed into the sky. "Gwyn! You know your gills were terrible last season – you nail those and no Quaffle will get past you!" Gwyn nodded and shot off toward the goalposts. Gwenog turned to Geraldine, Grace and I. "Geraldine, you know what to do, I assume?"

"Yes," Geraldine said.

"Good," replied Gwenog. "Off to it, then."

Geraldine glanced at us and began to walk toward the balls. She picked up the Quaffle and shot up into the sky. Grace and I exchanged a wary glance and followed her.

"All right, I'm just going to toss the Quaffle to you lot and see what you can do." Geraldine tossed the Quaffle from hand to hand absent-mindedly as she spoke. "I know you both are good because I've seen you at try-outs or when we scrimmaged with the reserve, but the three of us need to be capable of working like a well-oiled machine."

Machines. Huh. Geraldine must've been Muggle-born.

Not that it mattered. Just saying.

"Later on we'll start making plays and playing to our strengths. Let's just get used to the feel of the Quaffle for now. After each round, we'll spread out more until we're as far as we can get without drops. You drop, we start over. Got it?"

Grace and I nodded. Geraldine suddenly chucked the Quaffle in my direction with such force that I had to clamp my legs together over my broomstick to keep myself from falling off. Geraldine smirked, and I took a deep breath before I tossed the ball easily to Grace. Once Grace threw it back to Geraldine, the three of us flew backward so that we were farther apart than before, and we continued tossing the Quaffle in our circle. The cycle went on until we were at least forty feet from each other, and catching and tossing the Quaffle without dropping was getting more and more difficult. At around forty-five feet, my throw to Grace fell short and she dropped it.

We repeated the exercise two more times. The second time was a drop by me at sixty feet apart, and the third time was when Grace didn't grip the ball well enough on her throw to Geraldine and the Quaffle fell in between the sixty-five feet distance. Feeling pretty good about the last exercise, the three of us got a quick water break and then returned to do what Gwenog called "Chaser suicides," an unpleasant exercise where the three of us flew in a rotating V formation and tossed the Quaffle while we flew from one goalpost to the other over and over again.

At ten till two, when the sun was doing its worst and I was wishing more than anything for the bedazzled sunglasses Hayley had made for us, Gwenog stopped practice for a lunch break where we discussed plays in the locker room. Hayley and Gwyn helped Grace and I decorate our lockers (mine ended up completely covered in green and gold glitter with a large rhinestone in the center of the lock) and I was excited until I found my sandwich covered in aforementioned glitter.

I'm having so much fun finally playing hard Quidditch with a great group of people that I am able to forget about absolutely everything that's happening in my life besides what was happening at the very moment (which was Hayley and Gwyn trying to enchant the tub of purple glitter so that its contents stick to all of the toilet lids in the adjacent loo while everyone else roared with laughter).

After the forty-five minute lunch break, I am in a positively great mood by the time Gwenog comes into the room. She magicked a chalkboard where she proceeded to explain the new game plans for the year. Grace, it turned out, was an excellent strategist: she was capable of seeing every flaw in each play and explains how the opposing team could possibly find loopholes. Gwenog was so impressed with this that she pulled Grace out of the meeting to better improve the plays in another room, and ordered the rest of us to study what she had written on the board.

After a half hour of examination over the new plays, Valmai, the team captain, sent us all back onto the pitch to practice our part. Geraldine and I couldn't do very much without Grace, who was still planning with Gwenog inside the building, so we tossed the Quaffle back and forth a little bit and I tried to make small talk.

"You looked very lovely at the ball the other night, Geraldine," I said, underhandedly tossing the Quaffle to her.

"Thanks," Geraldine replied shortly. She caught the Quaffle and sent it barreling back to me.

"You should really wear your hair in a braid more often," I suggested.

"Yeah."

Gimmie something to work with here, Geraldine, I know you can talk. I heard you earlier! Maybe she was only eloquent when she was giving other people Quidditch orders.

"Have you ever wore it down?" I asked. "I'm sure it would be gorgeous, your hair has such pretty natural highlights…"

I was capable of being nice, see? Too bad it's on A COMPLETELY INDIFFERENT RECIPIENT UGH.

Luckily, I was saved from thinking of more kind things to say to Geraldine by the arrival of Gwenog and Grace on the ground. Gwenog blew her whistle and motioned the team down.

"Alright, Alexander and I have revised the plays," she said, "and I've copied them for you so you can take them home with you to study." Gwenog glanced at her watch. "So, practice is pretty much over. I want you to make sure _no one_ besides yourself sees those plays, you could be giving away everything!"

The team nodded in understanding.

"Also, in six weeks' time will be our annual scrimmage game that kicks off our season. It will be open to the public and is _approaching much quicker than you think_," Gwenog warned in a stern tone. Gwyn gnawed on her lip nervously and Geraldine had returned to her habit of biting her nails. "However, I think with the team we have put together this season we'll be in much better shape than we've been in years. Good work today."

All the team except me and Grace clapped once, loudly. Apparently it was a Harpies thing that us newbies hadn't gotten the hang of yet. Everyone went to put away the equipment, and before too long we were all saying goodbye and heading home. I Apparated back to Summer's just as the large grandfather clock in the den chimed five.

"I'm back," I called into the house.

Immediately, Summer came bounding into the room, followed by Amy.

"How was it?" Amy asked.

"It went better than I thought," I said.

Summer scrunched up her face once she came to a halt beside me. "You smell _really_ bad," she said.

I scowled at her. "Thank, Sum." I leaned my broomstick against the wall next to the stairs and went into the kitchen for some more water. "Did Ben and Katlyn come over?"

"Yeah," Summer replied, sitting on the stool opposite me at the island. "They said they missed you. If I were you, I'd be expecting a letter from my big brother any day now." She rolled her eyes. "I tried to explain to him what you said about your Harpies audition, but I think I left out a lot of details that Ben would love to hear. He'll probably want to hear the story from you firsthand."

"How're they doing?"

"He and Katlyn are perfect, of course. They said they want to get a Crup."

I snorted. "Their Muggle neighbors sure won't get suspicious of _that_," I said, imagining the reactions Ben and Katlyn will get to their Jack Russell terrier with a forked tail.

"Also," chimed in Amy, "Mark called the house phone. He left you a voicemail."

"Great," I sighed.

"And you got a letter from your brother," said Summer.

"Which one?"

"Percy."

I almost choked on the gulp of water I had just taken. "What? Where's the letter?"

"Oh, we already opened it for you," Summer admitted, waving a hand in front of her face offhandedly as if opening my mail was no big deal. Well, for her, I guess it wasn't. She used to open my letters when we were at Hogwarts, too.

I sighed again. "What did he want?"

"He's going on a date at the end of the week. Said she's 'really important' and he needs your help to look 'absolutely spiffing.'" Summer giggled. "He said he also owled Harry because he wants to model his look from the League ball."

I froze.

"You should probably call Mark back…" Amy encouraged after an uncomfortable silence.

Shaking myself out of my stupid Harry-freaking-Potter-induced brain lapse, I nodded absently.

"Right," I said. "I'll do that right now."

I left my water on the counter and rushed up the stairs to my room, grabbing my broom as I went. I had no intention of returning Mark's call – at least not today – and I wasn't exactly looking forward to dressing Percy for his date with Harry later either. Nonetheless, I found a piece of parchment in the desk and wrote my brother a letter saying that yes, I would help him, who's the lucky lady? and that I missed him.

Before I sent the letter off, I found another piece of parchment and addressed the letter to Hermione.

_Hermione, how have you been lately? I miss seeing you, it's been since the lake! How're things going with my brother…? _(I drew an embarrassing stick figure impersonation of Hermione and Ron standing in a giant heart) _I have SO much to tell you and it would be great to catch up with you. Please send word of when we can meet up for some butterbeer or something whenever is earliest for you!_

_Ginny_

I put the two letters together and found Summer's owl lurking in Summer's bedroom. I snatched him up, tied the letters to his leg, and ordered him to deliver Hermione's first. With an unconcerned hoot, he shot out of Summer's open window and out into the sky.

Sighing heavily, I decided a shower was in order because Summer was right – I _did_ smell really bad. The shower didn't last long, and once I got out I threw on some sweatpants and a camisole. I left my hair damp (because charming it dry all the time could potentially be very bad to my beautiful ginger locks) and wandered back downstairs to listen to this "voicemail" Mark left.

With some help from Amy, I eventually got the message to play.

"Ginny," Mark's voice said through the telephone, "I'm so sorry about yesterday. I know you need time to cool off, but I'm going to come over tomorrow at six and taking you out to dinner. Is that okay? Call me back and let me know, please! Ginny, I'm so sorry!" There was a pause. "Alright, please call me back. Bye."

I frowned at the telephone, trying to get the sound of Mark's voice begging for forgiveness out of my head. Ugh.

"Help me," I demanded to Amy, who had been trying to eavesdrop nearby. "How do I call him back?"

Amy rolled her eyes and pushed some buttons, and thrust the telephone back into my hands just as Mark picked up on the other line.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey, Mark. It's Ginny."

"Ginny!" Mark said, the relief evident in his voice. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Yeah." I shifted the telephone to my other ear uncomfortably. "Look, I'm sorry, too. I don't even remember what we were fighting about, but I know that I was a prat to you. So, dinner tomorrow sounds great."

"Awesome!"

"Do I have a dress code this time?" I asked.

Mark laughed. "Nah. Just casual, I suppose. We can go wherever you want."

"Hmmm…" I said, thinking. "Burger King?"

"Whatever."

"Okay. I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow. 'Bye, Mark."

"See you, Ginny."

I hung up the telephone and sighed.

"So, are you two okay?" Amy asked me once I had put the telephone back in its cradle.

"I guess so," I replied, scrunching up my nose. "I like Mark a lot, he just gets on my nerves sometimes, you know?"

Amy nodded sympathetically.

"It's a good thing Mark's such a good kisser," I added as an afterthought, smirking. Amy rolled her eyes, but giggled nonetheless.

* * *

The next night at six, after I had showered and freshened up from a Quidditch practice that was even more difficult than the last, I found myself dressed in some khaki shorts and a purple tank top that I had worn around Harry's lake house. It was far too hot to wear my hair down, so it was up in a high ponytail. The problem with the purple tank top was that it reminded me of when I helped him make salad at his lake house and I figured it would be a bad idea to be thinking about my ex-boyfriend that I may or may not be in love with (I'm trying to go back into denial – he has Meredith now, after all).

The doorbell rang just as I had thrown the purple tank top to the floor and exchanged it for a less memorable yellow spaghetti-strap shirt that made my skin look even paler than usual. Whatever. I wasn't trying to impress Mark anymore, so it didn't matter.

I came down the stairs to see Mark wearing a short-sleeved button-down with some cargo shorts and flip-flops.

"What are you wearing?" I asked him, trying to keep the disgust out of my tone.

Mark looked down at himself. "I dunno, is it not all right?"

"You're wearing flip-flops," I pointed out. "Just because you're a reporter does not give you any right to try and dress like an American."

Mark frowned. "Harsh," he said.

I shrugged and said, "So, ready to go?"

"Sure." Mark followed me out the door and down the path, ignoring Summer's obnoxious "goodbye!" and "have fun!" shouts coming from the house. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I'm not very familiar with the Muggle restaurants around town," I admitted. "But there's this one place nearby that the girls and I like to go to called Heather's Kitchen – it's a sandwich shoppe."

Mark laughed and started to unlock his car. "_Not_ Burger King, then?"

I shook my head and tugged on his arm, preventing him from getting in the car. "We can walk, it's only two blocks."

"Okay," said Mark. He took my hand as we made our way down the sidewalk, making small talk as we tried to ignore the sweltering summer heat.

Mark was very interested in magic tonight. He was asking all about the classes that I took at Hogwarts and what they were like – the conversation flowed easily as we discussed my favorite place on earth (besides the Quidditch pitch).

The topic of conversation didn't stop once we reached Heather's Kitchen, but rather became more hushed. We ordered our food and then Mark asked me about Wizarding careers.

"What do you want to be, then?" he asked, nodding politely at the waitress who slid our basket of sandwiches on the table. "I remember when we first met you said something about a nurse?"

"Oh yeah!" I laughed. "I forgot I said that. Well, I want to be a Healer, which is like a… doctor…? for you I suppose, but they use spells and potions instead of whatever barbaric forms of medicine you lot use. But right now, that goal is put on hold for Quidditch."

"Do you lot, you know, go to college?"

I snorted into my chips. "Of course not. Our fifth year, we take a sort of standardized test that gets us into… advanced classes. Then, our seventh year, we take another exam that hopefully scores us high enough to get us into the career field we chose."

"What were your scores then?" Mark asked through a mouthful of sub. "This is really good, by the way," he added, pointing at his sandwich.

"Haven't gotten my scores back yet," I said.

"But I thought you took the exams in your seventh year," Mark said. "Surely it hasn't taken them this long to calculate the scores?"

I picked uncomfortably at my napkin in my lap. "The school schedule got a little messed up a few years ago," I said shortly.

"Oh. Well what happened?"

"There was… a war."

"Oh! Wizards have wars?"

I gave a harsh laugh. "You'd be surprised. Our wars affect you Muggles as well. All those deaths a few years back? That wasn't gang involvement or serial killers or anything of the sort. That was all the work of one wizard."

Mark gasped and slowly set his sandwich back onto his plate. "How did you lot stop him?"

I avoided Mark's eyes as I muttered, "Harry Potter, mostly. My brother Ron and my best friend Hermione helped, but it all came down to him."

My face started heating up, but not from embarrassment. The prickly feeling behind my eyes that sprung up whenever I thought about the bravery Harry showed that night – offering himself up to death and then emerging victorious – made me love him even more than I could have ever thought possible.

Mark was looking at me with an awed expression.

"Did you fight him too?" he asked.

"I fought his Death Eaters… his gang, whatever. They do a lot of his dirty work."

"Wow," Mark said, wonder evident in his voice. "That is so cool!"

I looked up abruptly from my lap to glare at him. "It is not _cool_, Mark Hollis!" I reprimanded. "Thousands of innocent people died at the hands of this man, my own brother included! He seamlessly broke apart families, friendships, lovers…" I trailed off, thinking of Harry and his stupidly sensible reason for ending it.

I could practically hear Harry's voice in my head, and I could perfectly recall what he said to me.

_"__Ginny, listen..." _he had said._ "I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together._" I had called him out on his reasoning – playing the hero, of course. Again. "_It's been like... like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you. But I can't... we can't... I've got things to do now._"

I hadn't understood why, if he was as happy with me as he had said he was, he would have to break up with me. It might've been hard, yes, but I had thought we could make it work. It wasn't until one of my lonely nighttime strolls around the castle my sixth year that I realized that Harry had been making sense: I would've been used as bait to lure Harry into a trap, or worse. Nonetheless, the insight didn't prevent the accompanying heartbreak. I definitely owe Summer and Amy for getting me through that year in one piece – and that's without the Carrows punishing me for everything I did just because I was a Weasley.

Mark was quick to backtrack. He had picked up the last bit of his sandwich and was cramming it into his mouth. "That's not what I meant," he said thickly. "It's not cool what this mad bloke did, but it's cool that… I dunno… it's just kinda… cool?"

I rolled my eyes and picked up my sandwich. I hadn't even finished a half of it. Thinking about the War and You-Know-Who made me lose my appetite.

"Hey…" Mark touched my knee under the table. I jumped. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lied, "yeah, of course. Just tired, is all. Long day at practice."

Mark jumped on this topic, asking me all kinds of questions until we had walked all the way back to Summer's huge mansion and he had kissed me goodbye.

I ignored Amy's persistent "how'd it go?" questions and Summer's suggestive comments as I headed straight to my bedroom.

I threw myself face-first on the mattress, shut the door with my wand, and fell into a fitful sleep as I tried not to think.

* * *

The next six weeks passed in a mind-numbing pattern of Quidditch practices, letters to and from my family and friends, and attempts to see Mark despite our crazy schedules.

Mark, after his break or whatever it was, had to return to work. Being only a mere intern for the _Times_ and therefore having no say in his hours, he worked weeknights 4-9:30. Since I had Quidditch practice every day except Sunday from 10 to 5, this caused us problems. Mark and I tried to hang out together whenever we could on Saturday nights and Sundays, but it was difficult. In the meantime, however, Mark had been hanging around Summer's house while I was at practice. I didn't know why he did this – maybe he was sick of his other friends, maybe he likes Summer and Amy and the magical qualities they possess, or maybe he just likes the Lewis's house… I didn't really know. Either way, I was glad to see that he got on well with my friends, Amy in particular. It was a nice change to see Amy break out of her shell a bit with someone other than Summer and I.

Harry, on the other hand (who had bailed on Percy's dress-up event for some Puddlemere United signing thing), was making absolutely no effort to contact me. I tried to push this thought, as well as just all Harry thoughts in general, from my mind. I couldn't think about him on top of all the other things I had to worry about. I hadn't spoken to Harry in any way since the League Ball (and I was trying to convince myself that this didn't bother me), although I was more and more frequently receiving letters from his girlfriend.

Meredith, it seemed, thought that the two of us were now friends. And I guess I didn't mind getting letters from her… she had good taste in music. We became obsessive fans together over bands such as Firewhiskey Shakez and Pensive Dreaming. I believe in one letter we used the entire parchment discussing our love for the Switchblade Kittens. However, not once did she mention her father or sister or her lack of friends, and she never once mentioned Harry. I wasn't sure if I should have been grateful for this, or if I should try mooching her for details.

I asked Hermione this question when we went out for butterbeer two days after my make-up date with Mark.

"It seems to me that she just needs someone to talk to," Hermione said, frowning. Her dislike for Meredith hadn't lessened very much even after I explained to her that Meredith had never cheated on Harry and wasn't taking his money. "You really shouldn't get involved in their relationship, Ginny. Just let it unfold."

Hermione's relationship with my brother, I learned, was going swimmingly.

"He asked me to move in with him," she admitted, her cheeks tingeing pink.

I almost choked on butterbeer and died. "He WHAT?" I spluttered, mopping butterbeer from my blouse with my napkin.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Hermione scolded, beaming.

I grinned. "Sorry, it's just ABOUT BLOODY TIME!"

Hermione and I spent a while after that discussing Percy and who on earth could possibly want to date him. I found out a few days after my meeting with Hermione that the mystery woman was an absolute sweetheart named Audrey who happened to be surprisingly pretty and very petite. Apparently the date went very well and they were going out again a few days later. As far as I know, things are going pretty great for Perce.

I received a postcard from Luna and her boyfriend Rolf from their adventures in Germany. The back of the postcard read, "Hunting down Kafka bees in the mountains! We've been successful so far! Hoping you're well!" In response to this, I sent her a postcard with a picture of Big Ben on it with the words "Wish you were here!" written in cheesy font over the photograph. On the back I wrote, "Hunting for some normalcy in this crazy town… unsuccessful, though. Missing you, Luna, hope you're having fun!" I had thought it was clever, so Luna probably wouldn't laugh because that's just how life works.

I found out last week that Charlie was going to be released from the hospital in two weeks. He has recovered shockingly well and has been the "ideal patient," according to Mum. Mum also said that there is one cute nurse in particular who loves to come in and care for my second-eldest brother, and she's hoping that the two of them will get together once Charlie is released. I think she's getting her hopes up though: Charlie doesn't do long-term relationships.

Meanwhile, playing with the Holyhead Harpies has been whopping my butt. In light of this, however, my muscles have gotten a lot more toned, my Quidditch skills are at an all-time high, my skin is the darkest it's ever been (which isn't saying much), and my teammates were now some of my best friends… even Geraldine. Last week, in fact, the other two Chasers and I got together to bedazzle a new set of Keeper gloves for Gwyn for her birthday present. I had come to find that the brain-dulling practice of applying rhinestones to various objects was oddly relaxing, and I was quickly becoming a glitter addict. Whether or not this was a good thing or a very dangerous thing… I was still working that part out.

I was now sitting in the locker room with the rest of the team the day of the big scrimmage that kicked off our season, feeling gittery. Not only was all my family (sans Charlie) sitting out in the stands with Summer, Amy, and Hermione, but Mark was sitting with them also – his first magical excursion. I tried not to think too much about the likelihood of Harry showing up, because I didn't want to overexcite or depress myself right before my first professional Quidditch debut. I also tried not to think about all the _Quidditch Weekly_ reporters that were sitting in the Top Box with Gwenog, who was currently announcing the names of all the reserve players.

"And now, may I introduce this year's Holyhead Harpies!" Gwenog said loudly. "Captain and Beater, Valmai Morgan!" Valmai flew out of the locker room, wearing a huge grin. "Beater, Beth Greer! Chasers Geraldine Stump, Grace Alexander, and Ginny Weasley!"

My stomach turned upside down as I rocketed out onto the pitch, but my nerves were quelled when I immediately saw the large red-headed clump of people screaming their heads off for me. I beamed at my family, feeling my heart swell at the sight of them. Mark was standing next to Amy and staring around at the pitch in amazement, but was cheering and yelling for me all the same.

But my eyes didn't slide directly to my boyfriend. No, of course they flew straight to the green-eyed gaze that was shouting for me in a spot between Hermione and George. I think I stopped breathing.

I hadn't heard from him in _weeks_ and he decided to grace me with his presence _now?_ UGH! And he had the nerve to look _that damn good_?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CATCH A QUAFFLE NOW, YOU FREAKING NITWIT, WHEN I'D BE LOOKING AT YOU ALL THROUGHOUT THE GAME? _UGH_!

Harry seemed to realize I was angry with him, because he smiled sheepishly at me. I half-glared, half-rolled my eyes at him (probably looking incredibly stupid) and turned away as Gwenog finished naming the team members.

"This is sure to be an excellent match!" she announced excitedly. The team and I scurried into our beginning positions. I tried to gather my scrambled thoughts and recall all the plays we had been rehearsing for the past six weeks.

I was restless and anxious and excited all at once, and I couldn't stop fidgeting around on my broom until Gwenog said, "Let the game begin!"

I shot one last glace over at my family and friends, flashed them a quick grin, and then shot into action just as the Quaffle was tossed into the air.

Well, here goes…

* * *

A/N: sorry about the sudden skip to six weeks ahead. Y'all are getting antsy, I'm getting antsy, and quite frankly I'm sick of writing about Mark and Ginny and I want to write about Harry and Ginny so we had to fast forward a little bit.

hope this chapter was okay...? Good things to come I promise either next chapter or the one after that will be the plot twist that I think yall are subconsciously expecting but I've still been talking about it for like seventy years now so

Also, just wanted to say that I hate everyone and everything so please follow me on tumblr? .com

There was something else important that I wanted to say but I totally forgot. Y'all's reviews last time were awesomeawesomeawesome so please keep it up yall know it makes me faster so yeah PLZ REVIEW ILL GIVE YOU CANDY

Songs: Les Mis soundtrack


	21. Screaming Infidelities

Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling - the characters, the Quidditch teams/references, all that. I only own the plot. Sorry for tense-shifting, it's my weakness.

Finally, this is where the story picks up.

* * *

_I'm missing your laugh  
How did it break?  
And when did your eyes begin to look fake?  
I hope you're as happy as you're pretending.  
_  
-Screaming Infidelities – Dashboard Confessional

* * *

The Chaser from the reserve team (whose name I don't know, I don't know any of the reserve players) made a grab for the Quaffle, but Geraldine was faster. She knocked the reserve's hand away with her elbow, tucked the Quaffle under her arm, and shot off toward the goalposts. Grace and I fell into our well-rehearsed formation behind and beside her. I tried to focus on the game, but I was also trying to listen to the commentary, as well as keep my eyes off a certain dark-haired sexy ex-boyfriend yelling himself hoarse in the stands. Needless to say, I was a bit rattled.

"That's Stump with the Quaffle, she tosses it to Alexander! Alexander shoots toward the hoops – oh, deflected by a Bludger shot by reserve Beater Jenkins!" narrated Gwenog, her magically enhanced voice echoing throughout the stadium. Grace was still rolling in midair from her close call with the Bludger, and the Quaffle slipped out of her hands and into the hands of a reserve Chaser. "Now it's Greysette in possession, she tosses to Yeates, who is cut off by Weasley! Yeates throws back to Greysette… INTERCEPTED by Geraldine Stump!" That play (made up by the mutual minds of Gwenog and Grace) had been practiced so many times without a real Chaser to practice on, and I was pleased when it went down smoothly. Geraldine rocketed off down the field before the reserve team could recover, aimed past the reserve's Keeper, and then, "GOAL! 10-0 Harpies, by Geraldine Stump!"

I shouted my congratulations briefly at Geraldine and tried to get my mind refocused on the game, but I couldn't help my eyes flickering over to Harry. He was still watching the game, but was speaking to Ron. I tried not to wonder what they were talking about and tried not to hope but hoped anyway that they were talking about me. Mark, on the other hand, was bouncing around the stands in excitement, and even from the center of the pitch I could tell he was annoying Summer and Amy with his exclamations of "This is so _cool!_" and "Woah! Awesome!"

Meanwhile, Yeates-the-Reserve-Chaser had the Quaffle and was trying to get past Grace in order to pass to her teammate.

"Grace!" I yelled. "Try Purple Carrots!"

Grace's face set and she stuck a hand under Yeates' arm where she had tucked the Quaffle. As per the standard of the Purple Carrots play, the Quaffle shot up and out from the nook of Yeates' arm and Grace caught it as it fell through the air. She underhandedly tossed the Quaffle to me, I caught it easily (those stupid exercises Geraldine made us do actually helped after a while) and flew as fast as I could to the goalpost, dodging the reserve team as I went. I could hear Geraldine shouting, "TAKE IT HOME TAKE IT HOME!" and knew I had a clear shot for the right hoop. I shot it in easily and grinned.

I could hear my family screaming over Gwenog's announcement of "20-0 Harpies, by Ginny Weasley!", as they were hard to miss: a mass of red hair, spotted here and there with browns and one blonde, that were shouting and clapping and giving me thumbs-up. I beamed at them and headed back to my position for the next play.

Twenty minutes later, the score was 70-20. The reserve team was a lot better than I had anticipated, and were skilled at blocking us when we were trying to make a quick escape. Gwyn was giving her best performance I'd ever seen guarding the goalposts, and Hayley was searching relentlessly for the Snitch. Valmai and Beth were whacking Bludgers left and right, trying to cover the rest of us and ensure that we could play our part without worrying about our safety.

"It's the Harpies in possession," Gwenog said, "Grace Alexander heads toward the goalposts, but it seems the reserve has made a defensive wall! Notable technique." Instead of pursuing us, the reserves had spread out in front of their hoops, the three Chasers calling domain around the areas around the three goals. Grace, Geraldine, and I barely had time to stop and reevaluate.

"Weasley, Australia!" Geraldine barked. I nodded once, understanding the play that had been created for me based on my trick at try-outs, and flew down below the reserve's line just as Grace dropped the Quaffle directly beneath her, falling into my hands. I could feel one of the reserve Chasers following me, and I started laughing to myself, knowing she wouldn't be tailing me for long. With the Quaffle under my arm, I flew directly to the bottom of the hoops and rotated my body so that I was flying vertically through the narrow gap between the goalposts. The Chaser that had been following me fell back, not daring my treacherously cool trick. Once I had flown up and reached where the goals began to widen, I flew a little bit outward and up, spiraling in a loop just above the middle hoop and shooting the Quaffle in from behind the reserve Keeper's back.

"GOAL! Impressive stunt by Ginny Weasley, 80-20 Harpies!"

I could hear the crowd going absolutely mental, and my family was screaming their throats raw. I could practically feel the pressure of all the pictures being taken of me, and I knew I probably looked like a right mess at this stage, but I couldn't bring myself to care much when Harry Potter was looking at me like he was then. Was that respect I saw in his eyes? Awe? Or was it just a glare of the sun on his glasses? My heart somersaulted in my chest and I wondered if my stomach had fallen through my arse and was now freefalling to the ground. I looked down to check. Nope, my stomach was still physically intact, but internally it felt numb and queasy at the same time, because the light breeze was tickling Harry's long dark hair across his forehead and he was laughing open-mouthed with happiness and he just looked _so beautiful_ that I couldn't stay mad at him for anything in the world ever, not even for being a complete prat or for not talking to me or getting a new girlfriend or for causing me so much pain and heartbreak and worry and whatever the hell else.

Was I breathing? What's Quidditch? What's my _name?_

"Ginny," Grace snapped, "focus!"

Ah.

"And that's reserve Chaser Gimmike with the Quaffle! Oh, she's hit by a well-placed Bludger by Morgan, and Stump is in possession." Gwenog's voice suddenly went up an octave with excitement. "What's this? It's Grissom and Ithecary, neck-and-neck on a Snitch sighting!"

I desperately wanted to watch Hayley and the reserve Seeker battle it out, but I didn't want my fellow Chasers to chew me out again for lack of focus. I dutifully remained on Geraldine's right side, prepared just in case she decided to throw the Quaffle to me. The two of us flew with Grace below us toward the hoops, dodging a Bludger and the reserve's attempts to block us. The goalposts loomed nearer and nearer.

"Ooh, that was a close one!" Gwenog was saying. _Don't look don't look don't look_, I repeated to myself. _Focus._ "Close call of the goalposts by Ithecary –" Geraldine chucked the Quaffle at me, I burst forward and made a shot past the reserve Keeper and into the left hoop just as Gwenog exclaimed, "HAYLEY GRISSOM CATCHES THE SNITCH JUST AS GINNY WEASLEY SCORES ONE LAST GOAL, 240-20 WIN FOR THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES!"

The whole team was screaming and the reserve team looked resigned, as if they knew they were going to lose. I suppose they were on the reserve team for a reason, not being good enough for the real team, but they were pretty good as far as reserve teams went. I told myself to congratulate them later, but the thought was forgotten almost immediately as I touched ground and my team folded in on each other in a huge screaming hug – jumping and squealing included. Gwyn had a vial of golden glitter tucked into her robes and she popped it open and shook it over us as we all laughed together.

I still had glitter in my hair when my family came down onto the pitch to see me.

"That was wicked!" exclaimed Ron, grabbing me by the tops of my arms and shaking me around. "Where did you learn to do a trick like that?"

"World Cup, mate, where else?" said George, winking at me as he thumped Ron on the back. "Though I must say, baby sister, you executed it _flawlessly_." George kissed his fingers in a way that would make an arrogant French chef proud and said, "_Magnifique, _baby sister, simply _magnifique_."

Mum and Dad came bustling up next. Mum was crying as she pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Mum, what, why are you crying?" I asked, bewildered.

"I'm just so – so – so _proud_ of you!" Mum blubbered. She turned away and wailed into Dad's shoulder. Dad smiled at her and leaned down to kiss me on the forehead.

"That was excellent, baby," he said. I smiled. I loved my dad. "I hope you know that you'll always have a fan club at every single Harpies game."

"You are coming to _every_ game?" I said. Dad nodded and I grinned, stretching my arms to embrace both my parents into one big hug.

"Family hug?" said George. "I want in!"

I felt him envelop me from behind, and I laughed as I felt more and more bodies press Mum, Dad, and I into the center of a Weasley family hug. I could hear cameras snapping, but I was laughing too hard with the rest of my family to really discern them. "'Mione, Harry, come on!" Ron said, his voice floating through the mass of red-headed bodies to me in the center. "Summer, you guys, too!" The circle adjusted a bit to accommodate the newcomers, but I was happy nonetheless. I was in the center of a big clump of my family and friends and all the people I love most in the universe after I had just helped the best Quidditch team a girl could ask for win big-time in the match that kicked off the season.

The family hug disbanded after a long moment, but my huge smile was still in place when Hermione rushed up to me and enveloped me in a huge hug.

"You were fantastic!" she said excitedly. "I've never seen you play like that. And the team as a whole – you all play so well together! Like a well-oiled machine."

That "well-oiled machine" phrase again. Must be a Muggle-born thing.

Harry walked up at that moment, and I suddenly felt really nervous about how I should act. Was he going to hug me, too? Should I be mad at him? How could I be mad at him right now when he looked so relaxed? It was rare to see Harry look completely relaxed, especially when he was around big crowds of people ogling him, like they were now. He opened his arms as though he were about to embrace me, and I made an odd jerking motion with my body like I was about to run into them, and he took two uncomfortable bending movements with his arms to lower them to his sides before he eventually stuck his hand out. I exhaled sharply, not sure if I was glad or frustrated by this, and shook his hand briefly, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach that occurred whenever he touched me.

"Great game," he said. "Glad to see you took some of my advice. That kickoff –" Harry shook his head with a grin "– it was _perfect._ Perfect!"

I laughed, telling myself to ACTNORMALACTNORMALACTNORMAL but of course I had to go completely mental and bipolar and whatever on him and glare at him abruptly. "Harry James Potter why have you not tried to contact me in any way for _weeks and weeks_ and then think it's okay to just show up here out of the blue?"

Hermione, who was standing nearby and looking uncomfortable, made an "I'm gonna go" motion and walked away to slide a hand along Ron's shoulder.

Harry looked just as uncomfortable, but he also looked kind of angry. "I've been really busy, I'm sorry Ginny, honestly…" One look at my face and all the awkwardness in his expression vanished, replaced by only anger. "Communication goes two ways, you know!" he said heatedly. "I'm sorry I don't want to interrupt your perfect happy life of Quidditch and boyfriends and never seeing your family!"

"Excuse me?" I start, pushing a loose strand of red hair out of my face and placing my hands on my hips. "You can't just think everything's fine and then accuse me of never seeing my family!"

"Oh? When was the last time you went to visit Charlie in the hospital, eh?" said Harry, his eyebrows pulled together in aggravation. "When have you gone to visit George in the shop?"

"You have no right to say that when you promised Percy you'd help him get ready for his date and then you cancelled at last minute!"

"I had stuff to do!" Harry argued.

I was about to completely lose it. "I have stuff to do too! I'm _sorry_ if I haven't been to see Charlie lately but I've been keeping up with him in letters! I'm _sorry_ if I don't go visit George in the shop but I know he's safe and doing well for himself! I _sorry_ we can't all be as HIGH AND MIGHTY as the great Harry Potter!"

Harry glares at me.

"You _know_ that's not how it is, Ginny," he said in a dangerously calm voice.

I folded my arms across my chest and raised my eyebrows. "I'm not sure what I know anymore."

Harry's retort is cut off by the arrival of Summer, Amy, and Mark, who seem too cheerful for the dark mood I was in now. My two best friends embrace me in a squealing hug. Harry wandered away, his expression irritated. Good.

"You were bloody _brilliant_ –"Summer gushed.

"Being away so much at practice is evidently paying off –" Amy said happily.

"Could you hear us yelling?"

"I don't think I'll be able to speak tomorrow!"

I smile despite my bleak thoughts about Harry. "Thanks, guys," I said. "Mark, what'd you think?"

Mark's pretty blue eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed pink. He looked like a little boy who had just gone to the fair for the first time.

"Magic is SO COOL," he said loudly, causing many people to look over at him, Mum and Dad included.

Suddenly I felt uncomfortable.

"Er, Mark, have you met my parents…?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," Mark said. "They were nice. Your dad especially."

I rolled my eyes, knowing my father's obsession with Muggles. "Of course he was." But I was glad Mark had met my parents on his own, because I didn't really want to have to introduce him myself. In all honesty, I wasn't planning on Mark meeting my parents ever.

"But this whole Quidditch thing – it's even better than soccer!"

I scoffed. "That stupid sport where they kick a black and white ball around? Duh, Quidditch is better."

"Amy and Summer explained all the rules to me… I want to play!"

Ha. The chances of that happening are slim to none, Mark-O. "Um, all right."

I heard Gwenog's whistle pierce the air and the team gathered around her. I shouted a generic "Bye-Thanks-For-Coming" to my family and friends, tried not to shoot one last glance at Harry (and failed), and then joined the rest of my team around our manager.

"Great work today, Harpies," Gwenog said. "Absolutely excellent. I think this year could be one of the best we've had in decades, if you keep playing like you did today and practicing like you have been. The reserve played well, also, so if one of you gets sick or hurt, take heart in knowing that your replacement will not weigh the team down too badly."

The team shifted awkwardly, but no one interrupted Gwenog.

"For today's win, I have a surprise gift for you waiting in your lockers. Just for being awesome."

We all laughed and mumbled "thank you"s before rushing to the locker rooms. Hayley was the first to open her locker, and when she saw what was inside she squealed with excitement.

I opened mine and pulled out Gwenog's gift. It was a tall water bottle, tinted green and semi-transparent. The Holyhead Harpies logo of a gold talon decked the center, and the top and bottom rim of the cup were hand-bedazzled with small silver rhinestones.

"These are _so cute_!" Gwyn exclaimed.

"I am taking this EVERYWHERE," Hayley said, holding the cup up to her face for closer inspection.

"'Thanks Gwenog' on the count of three?" Valmai suggested. "If we all say it, she should be able to hear us."

Beth counted off. "One… two… three!"

"THANKS GWENOG," we all shouted at once, and then we all started laughing together as we began peeling off our sweaty Quidditch robes.

I was still laughing when I left the locker room to Apparate back to Summer's, thinking that I couldn't have been more grateful for such an amazing team.

* * *

A month came and went, and I was busier than ever. Quidditch practices, Quidditch games, Quidditch photoshoots, Quidditch parties. So far, the Holyhead Harpies had won all four of their games against the Bigonville Bombers, the Vratsa Vultures, the Chudley Cannons, and the Wigtown Wanderers. Charlie was out of the hospital now and had come to see me play in the last two matches, though he still had to make trips to St. Mungo's twice a week for physical therapy. Recovering from Catalonian Fireball poison couldn't have been easy.

I took Harry's advice about a week after the scrimmage game and visited George in the shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was doing better than ever, and George had just signed a lease to open a new branch in Diagon Alley. Ron and Percy, I learned, where helping out around the shop whenever they could. I left the joke shop in a much better mood than when I entered, thanks to my hilarious brother, and I was weighed down with all the free stuff George gave me. At first, I thought about giving the new Tongue-tied Taffy to Meredith (they make you speak a bunch of gibberish for about an hour), but then decided not to – Meredith and I were now, I hate to admit it, friends (insert cringe here).

She sent me letters often, and we talked about music and band guys and which concerts were in town. She even came to the Harpies-Vultures match, which was the only one that didn't overlap with the Puddlemere United matches. Even though Meredith and Harry were going through a (hopefully permanent) rough patch, she still dutifully attended every one of Harry's games – which had all been wins, as well. After our win against the Vultures, Meredith and I went out for drinks, though I was kind of embarrassed to be out with the preppy slut in the bright orange tank top and chevron-patterned shorts when I knew black-wearing hipster girl that resided underneath. It even got to the point that I called Meredith "Mere". I must've been seriously drunk.

I get letters from my family weekly, as well as gossip from Hermione on her relationship with Ron, which was going great. So far, he hasn't tied her up in the basement to "surprise" her with her favorite foods… yet. However, they have yet to have sex, even though I awkwardly keep encouraging her to make it happen – after all, boys are my area of expertise. Even though I myself am not having sex until I'm married, it doesn't mean I can't help a sista out.

Speaking of sex, things with Mark are getting awfully tense these days. One night in particular stuck out in my mind.

Mark and I were just casually making out on my bed in Summer's house. Mark's hands were knotted in my hair, and mine were splayed on his back. His hands slid down to touch my chest, which I guess I was okay with, and then he moved down to my zipper.

"Mark," I said, breaking away from our heated kiss as he slid the zipper down.

Mark ignored me and began sucking on my collarbone, his hands tugging at my belt loops.

"Mark," I said again, my voice coming out more severe instead of breathless. "Stop it."

"Why?" he asked lazily, his teeth grazing my skin. I felt kind of repulsed.

"I don't want this."

"We've been dating for over two months," Mark said. He moved his face so that it was buried in my cleavage. "It's about time."

"Eugh," I said disgustedly. I shoved his face roughly out from between my breasts and narrowed my eyes at him. "It is _not_ 'about time.'"

To my surprise, Mark laughed. "Come on, Ginny, you must be getting antsy after not having sex for so long."

I zipped by pants up quickly and sat up so that I was leaning on my hands. "Actually," I said, "I haven't had sex for eighteen years, and I plan on waiting a little longer."

Mark's face was shocked. "You're a _virgin_?"

"Yes, I'm a virgin," I snapped. "Stop making it out to be something bad."

"But… at the club that first night… you seemed so… _experienced_!"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm experienced with _dating_. I know what boys want. I just don't give it to them."

"So you're a tease."

"You tell me."

Mark just laughed again – laughing at me, I was sure – and tried to reconnect his mouth to mine. I didn't feel like arguing with him more, because kissing him was so pleasant, so I didn't shove him away.

That is, until his hand starting creeping up under my shirt.

I slapped his hand away. "Stop!"

Mark looked up at me lazily. "You don't want me to stop."

"Don't tell me what you think I want or don't want!" I said shrilly, scooting away from Mark and folding my arms across my chest, effectively ruining the mood.

Mark sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. He didn't look too pretty right now, with messy hair and swollen lips and hooded eyes. I was revolted with his attempts to feel me up.

"I think you should go home now, Mark."

"Come on, don't be like that," Mark said, trying to pry my arms away from my chest. "You can't just leave me hanging like this!"

My mouth opened in horror. "Yes, I can," I hissed after I recovered, "and I will. Go. Home. Or I will make you."

Mark laughed again, like the confident twat he was. "You wouldn't make me!"

I grabbed my wand from its spot on the bedside table and pointed it threateningly at my boyfriend. "Get out. And don't touch me again."

Mark held up his hands in mock-surrender and shuffled out the bedroom. A few minutes later, I heard the front door close and his car start. It wasn't unusual for me to feel relieved when Mark finally left me alone, but that night in particular I felt like I never wanted him to come back.

He did anyway. He came over during practice like he always did and hung out with Amy, mostly. I didn't think much of it, because I didn't really have time to worry about what Mark did with his spare time. Our lack of communication must be taking a toll on our relationship, but for right now neither of us were up to talking about that problem.

Lack of communication was not only a problem with Mark, but with Harry also. We hadn't spoken since our fight at the scrimmage game, though his birthday was two days ago. He didn't have a big party, since it was the same night as big Puddlemere United game against the Appleby Arrows, but I did send him a rather large box of assorted chocolates and a short card that said nothing but "Happy Birthday. Ginny" inside. I seriously considered putting some of George's Tongue-tied Taffy inside as well, but I knew Harry would recognize it for what it was, and I was still hanging on to the wishful thinking that Harry would eat the whole box of chocolates and get too fat to fly.

As far as I knew, Harry went out for a fancy birthday lunch with Meredith, Ron, and Hermione. I tried not to be hurt that I wasn't invited, tried not to imagine myself in Meredith's position, but it was difficult to keep my imagination from running wild. I reminded myself that Harry was a right prick last time we saw each other and banished his face from my mind. HA. Yeah right.

Grace Alexander, my fellow Chaser that I saw practically every day of my life, told me all about her experiences with her new boyfriend Louis, who she had been steadily seeing since sleeping with him the night of the ball. It was all I could do to tell her to be careful, but I was happy as long as she was happy. But that didn't mean that I wouldn't go beat down his arse as soon as he hurt her.

Also, over the course of the month I had gotten very close to Geraldine Stump. She even allowed Grace and I to give her a makeover. I told her some _great_ spells for charming her hair dry and shaving her legs, while Grace told her all about the wonders of mascara. Geraldine has been on two dates since then. The rest of the team seems quite awed by the success Grace and I had. They even gave us three Chasers new magically enhanced frizz-reducing hairbrushes – bedazzled, of course.

After spending so much time with the estrogen-filled, glitter-obsessed Quidditch team, I noticed little by little how my magical bedroom in Summer's house began to change. My bedspread now had embellished sparkly thread in places, and my desk was now lined with green and gold rhinestones. Summer was happy with these changes of course ("It's about time you finally got more girly!"), but Amy was kind of concerned and warned me about where I spend all my time ("You win some, you lose some," was her advice). She'd been acting really off the past couple of weeks. I think she was feeling sick.

Presently, I was heading home on a Sunday morning after a photoshoot with the Harpies for our calendar. I was still dressed up in my sexy short red shirt and low-cut white shirt, paired with seven-inch tall blue pumps – I was assigned the July spread – when I arrived back at Summer's.

"I'm back," I called into the house. There was no answer. "Hello?" I tried again, but with the same result. They couldn't have gone out, could they?

I tugged at the skirt a bit (it was seriously short – almost as short as the black dress I wore to that Muggle nightclub, but not quite) and headed upstairs. I could hear noise coming from the bathroom that connected to Amy's room, so I went in there as quietly as I could in my skyscraper heels.

"Hello?" I said again as I neared the bathroom.

Summer immediately showed up in the doorway, her hands on either side of the frame, blocking my vision.

"Heh… hello," she said shiftily.

"What's wrong?" I asked, craning my neck around in an attempt to see around my long-legged blonde friend. "Is Amy all right?"

"She's fine," Summer said shortly. I was taken aback; Summer had never talked to me like this before. I knew she could be a bit of a bitch, but she never had been to me. "She's just sick, is all."

At that moment, there was the unmistakable noise of vomit landing in a toilet bowl.

"Let me see her," I demanded. "I can probably help figure out what's wrong."

Summer shook her head. "That's probably not a good idea." Seeing my frown, she added, "Besides, we know what's wrong."

"Well, what is it? Should she go to St. Mungo's?" I wasn't sure if I could handle yet another person I love being sick and sent to the hospital, especially not sweet Amy.

"She doesn't need to go to the hospital," Summer snapped. "We don't need you right now… it's not like you're ever around anymore anyway."

That hurt.

There was a sound of a toilet flushing, water running, and then Amy appeared in the doorway beside Summer.

"Summy, lay off a bit, yeah?" she said. "She needs to know."

Summer stepped aside and made room for Amy in the small space of the bathroom doorway. Amy definitely looked worse for wear. Her short dark hair was in a disheveled array on her head and she had deep bags under her eyes. She was clutching her stomach with both hands. I rushed up to her, intending to give her a huge embrace and ask what I could do to help, but she held a hand up to keep me away.

I gave her a confused expression, and she took a deep breath.

"Ginny," she said quietly. "I'm pregnant."

I sucked in a deep gulp of air. Okay… pregnant. Amy. I could work with that, I supposed.

"And the father… well, the father is Mark."

* * *

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